


Crooked Heart

by TheThingsIWillRegret



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friends to Lovers, I don't even know where this is heading, I just noticed how fucked the school system is, I try to write a bit about everyone, Jealousy, Kinda..., M/M, Slow Build, Smut, and its going to be the death of me, but occasionally write in Max's, but the entire game is fucked up so fight me, but trigger warning anyways, don't worry it wont be none of that "love fixes your problems" kinda bullshit, dont think it will be graphically written, fluff too, i know this is fucked up you don't have to tell me, in life is strange, it will be a regular four year highschool, jesus take the wheel, kate and Max are an established relationship, lets not discuss that, mention of rape, not sure if ill even keep this up though, or the one where Max finally gets to take a fucking break, so instead of an all senior highschool, warre and nathan are main point of view
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 40,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThingsIWillRegret/pseuds/TheThingsIWillRegret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan swallowed thickly under his fathers' pinning glare. Despite his best effort to keep them still, his hands defiantly shook. He settled for curling his fingers into the palm of his hands, nails digging in hard enough to break through skin and draw blood, but that was the only way he could keep them from shaking. The words he wanted to say were at the tip of his tongue, but he wouldn't dare utter them. Not unless he wanted to face the consequences. No one spoke to his father disrespectfully and got away with it. Not even his own son, especially not his own son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not much to say only that read and let me know if you like it. I might or might not finish this up, but that depends on a couple of things. Other than that, enjoy ~~

 

Nathan rubbed his hands together and the warmth created from friction was greedily welcomed. He moved his fingers, the feeling less frigid than before. He was fearing that they might have frozen over and was relived at the ability to move them. Nathan glanced down at his nearly purple fingers. They had a solid appearance, but he felt sure that if he applied some force, they would snap off like icicles. He felt stupid freezing his ass off outside meanwhile he had a warm dorm only a few feet away, but just the thought of moving made his entire body pulse, emphasizing the ache from his bruised body. Nathan swallowed against the will of his dry throat which let out a low whine in protest. He swallowed down nothing, since his mouth was as dry as his throat. 

How long has it been since he recklessly drove from the Prescotts' household after his father was done with him? How long has it been since he limped from the car, in which he left running (Nathan hoped it got robbed), to the dorms only to decide that he didn't want to go inside? How long has he been sitting on the bench nearest to the entrance, unmoving with a blank look on his face? How long has he been here, staring up at the glistening stars and faintly glowing moon, huffs of air coming from his trembling lips, and shaking hands being shoved into his pockets only to be brought out again? There was no way he would be able to tell, even held at gunpoint. 

Nathan heard the entrance of the dorms be swung open. He winced when the rusty door screeched, an echo flowing through night air until it reached his ears. The sound seemingly louder than it truly was to his eardrums. Footsteps approached his person and he found himself hoping it was Max, only to have the girl make fun of him, shout at him, maybe even take some swings of her own. Anything to be struck out of this daze, out of this self-loathing and growing desire to be dead. He wanted to be torn away from the sparkling yellow lights in the sky that got to be so far away from what he considered to be a shit world. He wanted to stop wishing he could be one of them instead of Nathan Prescott, anything but a fucking Prescott.

He turned his head towards the sound of growing footsteps and there was Alyssa, blindly walking with her phone in hand as she payed no mind to her surroundings. She walked past Nathan without even acknowledging his presence and Nathan felt anger flare up inside of him. He wanted to scream at her, beat the shit out of her, pull her purple hair from its roots, but instead he did nothing but watch her go. That's exactly what his father wanted, more excuses to have no one believe a word that came from Nathan's mouth. Abruptly, Nathan stood and nearly collapsed when the soreness he felt in his muscles fully hit him. He swayed slightly, but remained on his feet with his jaw tight enough to feel like it would dislocate at any second.

His backside unpleasantly tingled as if it were consistently being stabbed with thousands of needles. Even though it felt impossible, Nathan tightened his jaw even more and for a second he feared that it might actually dislocate, but quickly pushed the fear aside when he felt another stab of pain on his backside. Memories replayed in his head reminding Nathan why it even stung in the first place. He bit into his lip hard and tried to ignore the sudden metallic taste on his tongue. Hot panted breaths by his ear as he sobbed and begged, god did he beg, but it only made things worse, it always did. Bile rose up from the pit of his stomach, but he tried to ignore it as he made his way with shaking legs to his dorm room.

It was a miracle he even made it to the front of his room, but that is where the miracles seized. Nathan's legs gave out before he was even able to reach for his room key. He fell to his knees and shifted to a sitting position, back against his door. He hissed as his ass made contact with the stiff ground and even though the floor was made out of carpet, it had the same affect were it made out of rocks. Nathan banged the back of his head against the door and hopped no one investigated the source of the noise. He didn't want to spend the night out in public, but every bone in his body felt twice as heavy. He couldn't even force himself to reach for his key. Nathan could see it poking out from his pocket, teasingly within hands reach, but to his mind as far as the North Pole was to the South.

His eye lids started to grow heavy and Nathan firmly squeezed his eyes shut only to reopened them. The heaviness did not go away, if anything it got harder to keep his eyes open. There was little he could do as he began to fade from consciousness.

His eye lids drooped down, but Nathan could hardly tell the difference. The corridor was just as dark as it was with his eyes opened. His shallow short breaths soon turned into deep relaxed inhales and exhales. Tense muscles involuntarily unwinding, the pulsing pain seemingly galaxies away as it eased into dull buzzing. He knew he would regret this tomorrow when people crowded around him and began to ask questions. Questions that would only serve to annoy him when he had to make up a lie on the spot. He wouldn't dare tell them the truth because they didn't care. He knew they didn't, but it was human nature to be curious and he would have to lie to cover the truth he desperately desired to shout out at the top of his lungs. He wanted nothing more than to have the world know, but what good would it do him? People wouldn't believe one word that came from his mouth. Not if his father had any say in the matter. Afterall, he had physical proof of past rehabilitation as well as paper work from his psychiatrist. His father's word would always be of higher value and the truth will always be veiled by a curtain of lies.

Between the blissful line between awake and asleep, a hand firmly gripped Nathan's shoulder. Nathan's eyes shot open and although it hurt, he tore his body away from the hand as his entire body protested the action. He sobbed at the blare of pain that traveled throughout his body, from his thighs that drew together tightly, to his shoulders that tensed up at being touched, but Nathan's mind wasn't focused on the hurt. Did his father find out Nathan escaped with his car? Did he come back for seconds?

“Woah, I'm sorry. I- uh – didn't mean to scare you,” that wasn't his fathers voice. It wasn't condescending enough to belong to him. Nathan glanced up at the body hovering over him. Of course the person to find him would be Warren. The one person who almost always fell victim to the Vortex Club's teasing and pranks. The one who had all reason to hate the leader of the club that made his life more complicated than it had to be. It was just Nathan's luck. 

Warren's hands were raised as if he were afraid Nathan would attack him and not the other way around. Nathan mentally scoffed, he was the one who nearly had a heartattack. Warren put his hands back down to his sides and narrowed his eyes in concern. “Are you okay, Nathan?”, he asked in a soft tone, attempting to coax Nathan into relaxing. Nathan scoffed again but this time audibly. Why the fuck did he care anyways? “I'm – fine,” but Nathan was sure Warren could hear the lie, obvious like a virgin nun, or it could have been the sound of his gruff voice that basically whined the words out. “Let me help you,” Warren said as he reached for Nathan, but Nathan leaned deeper against the door in protest, “Fuck off,” he tried to say with venom, but only managed to sound like a wounded animal being cornered.

Warren huffed and kneeled down to make eye contact with Nathan. “The way I see it, there are only two theories as to why you're outside your room instead of inside. One, you're drunk but your words aren't slurred and you don't stink of alcohol. Two, you're hurt, and by the way you haven't punched me yet is making me assume I'm right to go with theory two ,” Warren hypothesized and Nathan remained silently glaring at Warren. “In both theories you'd be unable to get into your room and it would be shitty of me to just leave you here,” Warren concluded as he grabbed Nathan's forearm and wrapped it around his neck. Nathan grimaced at the contact, but said nothing as Warren helped him to his feet. It was difficult to remain in balance when your body was screaming in disapproval at even the slightest of motion. Nathan had no choice but to lean heavily against Warren and bitter rage bubbled in the pit of Nathan's belly. He hated the unability to control his own body. “Key?”, Warren grunted under the weight of Nathan. “Front pocket – left,” Nathan panted out and Warren wasted no time in retrieving the key. With little difficulty, Warren was able to unlock the door and swing it open. The hard part, was getting Nathan inside.

When Warren would walk forward, Nathan would take awhile to process Warren had moved, and even longer to move forward himself. Although Nathan was surprisingly light, their co-operation was off and it took much longer than necessary to get Nathan on a bed only five feet away. Warren sat Nathan down on the edge of his bed and flipped on the light switch beside the entrance of Nathan's room. The lights flickered to life and both Nathan and Warren hissed at the harsh change of brightness. It took awhile to adjust his eyes, but once he was able to, Warren turned around to face Nathan.

“Nathan.” It was just his name, but the way it was whispered through slightly parted lips, pity heavy in tone, suddenly made Nathan feel like throwing up. He didn't want to be looked at that way, eyes wide in horror as they traced Nathan's swollen eye and split lip. He didn't want Warren's gaze traveling downwards to his neck. The neck that just a couple of hours ago had a belt tightly wrapped around it, choking him, and making his eyes bulge in fear when it wouldn't loosen. He had worried that his last moment would be spent with his father, that they would be spent with his father  _inside_ him. 

The inevitable question was finally asked, “What happened?” Nathan close his eyes tightly, but this time it was not to fight off his tiredness, if to fend off the graphic memories that came to mind. “None of your fucking business, Graham,” but he still couldn't find the strength to speak with spitefulness. “Nathan,” there it was again and Nathan closed his eyes tighter. “Fuck.off.Graham,” Nathan said through gritted teeth. Warren sighed loudly, “fine, whatever, forget it. But you need medical attention. Common, I'll drive you to the hospital,” Nathan's eyes shot open at the mention of a hospital. His father would receive a call from the hospital and he would be there in minutes with a plastered on smile, and a pleasant tone whispering apologizes to the staff. _He hurts himself sometimes, you know._  Whether they believed him or not didn't matter. They wouldn't dare question a Prescott's personal life, not while the man pratically owned the hospital. “No!”, he shouted with enough force to surprise himself.

The room vibrating with the voracity of his yell and Warren visibly flinched. “Why not?”, he said after a minute of silence. “Just – for fuck's sake – let me go to sleep,” Nathan groaned as he laid down on his bed. “I'm not leaving you here like this. What if you go into a coma and die or something?”, Warren babbled. Nathan felt his tiredness hit him full blast as he closed his eyes again. Warren continued talking, but his voice turned into humming static that eventually faded altogether along with Nathan's consciousness.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOkaayyyy. So let me tell you that this has become longer than I expected it to be and is currently hard to work on since now I have a job and dealing with financial aid is becoming an unnecessary hassle. Because of this I have decided to post up at least seven chapters that I have already written down and edited. This might also be because I received amazing critique on the first chapter in which I didn't expect at all, but I'm super grateful for. Please enjoy this and I hope that you bare with my incompetence. 
> 
> ~~~ means a skip into the day.

The sunlight seeping in through the blinds, bright enough that Nathan could see it behind closed lids, was what threw him off. Nathan rarely opened his blinds and if he did, they never stayed open for long. He always felt someone was watching him from outside and it made his skin crawl, goose bumps to litter his body. The blinds never stayed open for longer than two hours at most. Nathan's pulse began to race as he firmly kept his eyes shut despite his desire to observe his surroundings. Did he dream escaping? Was he still at the Prescott household? Nathan felt the palms of his hands begin to sweat and focused entirely on his sense of hearing.

The obvious sound of typing was coming from somewhere behind him, but it wasn't the _tink tink_ of his father's favorite typewriter. It sounded more like the typing from a computer's keyboard, less irritating than that old thing his father always insisted on using. The rapidness of it couldn't belong to his father either, for his father took at minimum an hour to write a simple paragraph, his fingers hovering above the keys as he read over the word that came next. “Aw, fuck,” a voice hissed from the same place the typing was coming from. Nathan fluttered his eyes open and immediately recognized his room. A sense of relief washed over him as his eyes darted around the familiar place. He took in as much as possible, almost as if afraid this were an illusion, and nearly sighed in bliss once he knew for sure he was home. Despite the fact his father basically owned the entire school, Nathan couldn't help but feel safe in his dorm room. It was the only place he could call his and the fact that he had no memories of his father being in this room helped keep it that way. Nathan sat up and turned to face the intruder.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?”, Nathan spat out in a gruff voice, his throat burning in protest. Warren startled, not being aware that Nathan woke up, but slightly relaxed when he recognized Nathan was the one talking to him. “Jesus, you scared me dude,” Warren said and Nathan repeated his question. “I stayed with you to make sure you woke up tomorrow,” Warren stopped talking and looked at the window, then back at Nathan. “Er, I suppose that would be today,” he continued. “No one ordered you to babysit me,” Nathan shot back. Warren shrugged and shut his laptop. “You're welcome. By the way, I had like, no sleep at all. So yeah, once again, you're welcome,” he said as he stood with his laptop being held by his side. He began to head for the door, but Nathan spoke before he could leave. “Graham, I'm warning you if-,” Nathan began, but Warren cut him off before he could continue, “If you tell anyone, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I know. You don't have to threaten me. I should have expected it coming from you, but I can't believe after I brought your heavy ass into your room yesterday and watched over you until morning, that you would believe me to be the kind of person to tell anyone about this. You may be an asshole, but it doesn't mean everyone else is Nathan,” and with those last words Warren was gone from the room leaving behind a tight lipped Nathan.

Sighing, Nathan grabbed the cold water bottle from ontop of his night table. He doesn't remember leaving it there and concluded it had to have been Warren. Nathan hastily removes the cap and raises the bottle to his lips, chugging the water until there was nothing left. The icy water felt nice going down his dry throat. It reminded Nathan of his last summer, the days that were blistering hot and Nathan had no choice but to indulge himself in ice cream. He remembers the feeling of being being bathed in the warm rays of the sun, his fingers sticky due to the melting ice cream dribbling down the cone and onto his hand. The feeling of bliss knowing that his father was away on a summer vacation and not to be seen for the entire summer. It felt like those days were years away and not just months. Far from memory was the feeling of utter bliss, the ability to relax a seemingly foreign concept. Nathan discarded the empty bottle in his trashcan and kneeled down beside his bed. He ignored his aching muscles as he reached under his bed and pulled out a small black bag.

He unzipped the bag and fumbled with the items inside until he found what he was looking for; a palm sized mirror with a black back cover. Nathan brought it up in front of his face and winced at his appearance. Black and purple mashed to create a shining black eye, the eyelid slightly drooped due to swelling. He pressed his fingers on the bruised left eye and hissed. At least it was the worst of his abused face. His temple was mildly bruised as well as his bottom lip, but what really concerned Nathan was the contrasting dark colors that circled around his neck. A blazing and fiery hell that would be to cover-up. Nathan sighed again and removed all the contents from within the bag. He desperately needed a shower, but couldn't risk going out in these conditions where he would be visible to everyone and anyone within the hallways. The best option available was to apply the make-up and avoid wetting his neck and face when showering. A ragged sigh escaped Nathan's lips and he forced the lump he felt forming in his throat down. Before he could even get started, he walked over to the blinds and shut them. The brightness from outside shut completely from his room leaving nothing but darkness.

 

\----------

 

Nathan's heart sank to the ground when his father's Aston Martin DB9 was nowhere in sight. Yesterday, he wanted nothing more than to crash the highly expensive car into a tree, set it on fire, drive it off a cliff, have it robbed, but now – now he began to think of the consequences. Consequences that made a chill run from the bottom of his spine straight up to the base of his neck. The temperature seemingly dropped several degrees as his blood pumped quicker under his skin. He felt frozen to the spot, staring blankly at where the previously “parked” car was replaced by a packet of soiled fries.

Nathan wanted to scream. He wanted to scream until he couldn't hear a thing except shrill screeching. Until his voice box busted and he could no longer speak for the rest of his life. The thought of father finding out drowned all others, dominating and making him feel as if he were suffocating. He was sure his father knew he took the car by now and eventually he would find out that it was missing. He would come for Nathan and there would be no mercy from the man who lost his most precious car at the hand of his worthless son.

The feeling of something fabric wrapped around the back of his neck and Nathan spun around fast enough to feel disoriented for a couple of seconds. With his vision blurred, it took awhile to recognized Warren standing in front of him, eyes wide and hands held up similar to how they were last night. Nathan slightly relaxed, but his heart continued to pound against his chest at an abnormal rate. “Are you oka-,” but Nathan cut in before Warren could finish. “I'm fine,” the fumbled words were spoken too quickly and defensively to be believed. “Right. Well, uh, the bruising on the back of your neck is showing a bit so,” Warren finished by gesturing to Nathan's neck.

Nathan looked down at a bright yellow scarf hanging down from his neck. At the sight of the scarf, Nathan could feel an unfathomable rage boiling underneath his skin. Despite his irritation to do so, Nathan bite into his already abused lip and held back the desire to lash out. What was it with Warren and his fucking pity? “Oh,” Nathan said in barely contained anger. “I, uh,” he muttered as he thought of what to say. “It's okay. I know you're like allergic to the words 'thank you' or something. You're welcome,” Warren said with a small smile. With nothing else to say, he began to walk away and Nathan could feel his anger getting more managable the farther away Warren got from him. 

The sudden vibration against Nathan's outer thigh startled him slightly. Nathan reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. The text read _Sean Prescott: Bring my car back home immediately._ and Nathan was instantly hit with the suffocating anxiety he was feeling earlier. Nathan stared at the bright screen baring thick black letters. They were nothing but words, but the power one short sentence held was enough to make Nathan's legs tremble. Nathan closed his eyes and locked his phone. He couldn't ignore his father forever, but he could postpone the inevitable for at least one day. Nathan felt his phone vibrate again, but this time the text read _Icky Vicky: What outfit should I wear to tonight's Vortex party?_ with two images attached.

In one of the pictures, Victoria posed in front of her bedroom mirror wearing a red dress that reached mid-thigh. A blue jacket was thrown on top and Nathan couldn't tell whether the dress was sleeveless or not. Expensive looking black heels was what she decided to match the outfit with and a pair of feather earings were in full view due to her short hair. Nathan scrolled to the next picture and immediately rolled his eyes. Victoria had a huge thing for cardigan. Nathan could feel himself able to breath again as he texted back with a simple _first_. A party is just what he needed.

 

–--------

 

Nathan stumbles and nearly falls, but waves his arms widely around and manages to catch himself in mid-air. His laugh cuts sharply threw the silence outside of the dorm's building and Nathan mentally reminds himself people are sleeping. He places a finger on his lips as if trying to silence the laugh that was already over. To his ears, it was as if it were still echoing. Nathan stumbles again, but this time is unable to prevent his body from crashing onto the sidewalk. In his drunken state, Nathan is unable to feel the pain that he will surely feel the next day. Instead of groaning, he laughs loudly once again, but refrains from scolding himself this time around. Nathan felt good.

“I'm not helping to your room this time,” he hears Warren say from beside him. Nathan glances up at the body towering over him and smiles lopsidedly. “'Ello, giant,” he says through a giggle. Warren is barely able to suppress his laughter. “Wow, how much did you drink exactly?” Nathan shrugs and closes his eyes. A deep relaxed sigh follows. “Like maybe a lot,” was his response, his words slightly slurred. “Like maybe a lot,” Warren repeats and shakes his head in disbelief with amusement clear on his face. “Warren,” Nathan calls. “What?”, but Nathan only repeats his name as if he hadn't heard Warren respond. “What?”, Warren ask again. “Sleep with me 'onight,” Nathan breathes out as if he's falling asleep. “Uh,” Warren is not sure on what the appropriate response to that statement would be because that wasn't a question, it was more of an order. “I need to cuddle 'omeone at 'ight, like a 'eddy 'ear,” Nathan chuckles with much effort. “Okay, you clearly are on drugs as well. Common, let's get you to your room,” Warren says as he leans down beside Nathan who is half asleep.

“No, 'ight 'ere,” Nathan protests, but Warren's already forcing him to his feet. The walk back to Nathan's dorm room was as difficult as Warren expected it to be. If walking five steps with Nathan heavily leaning on him before was a challenge, than there would be no words left to describe dragging Nathan all the way from outside, up a flight of stairs, and through a winding hallway. As before, Nathan lagged slightly behind as Warren struggled to keep himself upright along with Nathan. Every step made Warren's hatred at his kind heart grow. Why did he tend to wonder around at night? This situation could have been avoided, Warren scolds himself mentally.

When Nathan's door was in sight he began to search through Nathan's pockets. The front pockets were barren and Nathan's jacket only held his phone. Warren stuck his hand into Nathan's back pocket. “Warren, 'ere not even in-side yet,” Nathan mumbled from Warren's shoulder. Warren smiled despite the weirdness of Nathan flirting with him and triumphantly cheered when he felt the key. Once inside, Warren disposed of Nathan on the bed and laid the boy sideways in case he threw up as he slept. Nathan groans and snuggles his head deeper into his pillow. “Goodnight sweet angel,” Warren mutters sarcastically. “'oonight my knight,” Nathan says back. “God, this is so weird.” Warren is incapable of not being highly amused at the entire situation. He takes back what he thought earlier, It was worth trudging Nathan's heavy body all the way to his room, if only to hear Nathan say that one line.

Despite having a long nap in the middle of the day, Warren was utterly exhausted and couldn't spend another night watching over Nathan. Warren headed towards Nathan's desk, grabbing a pen, and green sticky note from a half used pile.

 

_Make sure to drink lots of water sweet angel_

_\- your knight in shinning armor._

 

He set the note on Nathan's night table, then quickly headed to his room and returned with a bottle of water and two small Advil pills. He set them down beside the sticky note and with a quick glance at Nathan, Warren was off to get some sleep of his own.

 

–------

 

There were many things Warren expected from Nathan the next day. He mainly expected a punch to the face. The yelling of many choice words from forbidden vocabulary being spat his way. Being run over with a luxurious car worth more than the life of three students from Blackwell combined. A hitman with an unpronounceable name hired to feed Warren to man eating sharks. There were various things that Warren expected from Nathan that day, but a text from the other that read

_thanks - Nathan_

was definitely not on the list. Despite his shock, he texts Nathan back with

_how did you know it was me?_

And

 _how did you get my number?,_ But as expected, Warren received no response.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Sean Prescott: Nathan, I have given you more than enough time. It has been three days. Don't make me take matters into my own hands. You know how this will end playing out. Quit ignoring me and bring my car back home._

Nathan couldn't find the strength to reply, to let his father know that he couldn't because the car was stolen and no longer in his possession. The thought alone caused Nathan's throat to close up forcing him to breath abnormally, gasping desperately for air and exhaling shakily. Trembling fingers barely held on to the device in its grip and they tightened in a weak attempt to stop the shaking. He swallowed with much difficult due to, what felt like, his throat caving in on itself and despite his hatred for his father he couldn't help but feel as if he was letting the man down again. Nathan hated that feeling.

Glancing at the certificate on his wall suddenly made his blood boil. He sure as hell wasn't the best son, but fuck if Sean was even considered a father at all. As Nathan stood to his feet, he released the tight hold on his phone completely. A soft thump sounded as it fell onto the carpet of his room, but Nathan's eyes remained fixed on the certificate. The beat of his own heart pounded louder in his ears with every step he took. His vision narrowed, like a race horse whose sight was limited to see nowhere except straight ahead. He couldn't look away from the certificate that stood proudly on his wall, claiming the space greedily. Nathan hated that piece of paper that stated nonsense and made it seem important. Yet, as he tore the frame off the wall, heavier in his hands than it should be, away went the desire to tear the certificate into tiny unrecognizable pieces. “Fuck,” he sobbed.

He remembers when he first got it. Seven years old after his father called him into his office with the promise of a gift. The office being a large room that, with its towering bookshelves covering every inch of the walls, could be considered a library. Most of the books held words too complex for Nathan at that age. To him, the books were just boring pages filled with incomprehensible writing. At seven years old, his love for his father was impeccable and despite his father's stoic behavior towards him, Sean was his role model. Receiving a certificate that stated he was the best son meant the world to Nathan. So much so that despite the rape that began at age fifteen and the overwhelming psychiatric treatment that followed soon after, Nathan never even considered ridding of the paper as an option.

Nathan supposes he considers it a memory of the days when he could think of his father and get chills of excitement that littered his body. His tiny body bouncing as his father merely acknowledged his presence with something as simple as a nod. The chills he got now were for a very different reason.

Nathan reluctantly hung the framed certificate back on the wall and decided he needed some fresh air. His throat still felt tight and breathing was only becoming harder to do inside his stuffy dark room. Nathan walked out to the hallway, locking his door shortly after. His heart seemingly weighed him down, a persistent dull ache in place. It made Nathan fear his heart would give out before he made it outside, but as he pushed through the doors that lead to one of Blackwell's favorite chill spots, the intensity of his emotions instantly lessened to moderate levels. Nathan breathed in deeply and momentarily closed his eyes. As he breathed out, Nathan ignored the people who looked his way with suspicion evident in their eyes and sat on the bench nearest to him. The chilly air bit at his hands causing him to shove them into the pockets of his jacket. Fingers grazed the pill bottle that he carried everywhere with him besides the fact he hasn't taken any in a month. They were to be taken, according to his psychiatrist, whenever he felt suffocated under his own thoughts. Nathan scoffed, he didn't need pills to calm himself down. He found that if he deepened his breathing, focused on slowing his heartbeat, and ignored the itching desire to swallow pills (because it was easier – so much easier), he was able to prevent a panic attack.

It wasn't like the pills helped anyways. Their effect was numbing, like a drug, except not as satisfying. There was always incoherent mumbled in the distant and no matter how close he got to the hushed whispers, he was unable to make out what they were saying. Soon after, he'd find out it was just the conversations going on around him, but the pills in his system prevented him from focusing on any of it. Even if people were talking directly to him, their words remained alien to his ears. With his glazed eyes and obvious blank mind, people always seemed to think he was high, but Nathan never bothered to disprove their theory, it was better that way anyways. It wasn't like they cared either way, they would probably just add psychopath to the list of things they thought of him. All in which were words you'd never use to describe anyone you cared about.

A shadow loomed over Nathan, blocking what little warmth the sun was giving off to his shivering body. Nathan parted his lips in a sneer as he glanced up and met eyes with a hesitant looking Max. At the sudden eye contact, Max darted her eyes nervously away from Nathan and stared at her feet instead. Nathan's scowl faded. “Nathan, are you – okay?”, smoke forming in front of her moving lips as she spoke, something Nathan always loved about the cold. The way your breath became visible to everyone around you, but more importantly to yourself. It was easier to relax when you could see yourself breathing out deeply, a reminder that you're still here, alive and kicking despite what you might be feeling inside.

Nathan refrained from responding for a minute or two, more put off by her words than Max speaking to him. Where he expected attitude and hasty accusations of him bullying one of her friends, he got a soft question based on his well being. Max glanced up from her dirty old converse half expecting Nathan to be gone from the spot, but Nathan was still there, face blank, and eyes half-lidded as if tired. At first, Nathan wanted to tell her off. He was not in the mood to be jerked around, but the sincerity in her question made Nathan hold his tongue. “I'm managing,” he muttered and Max flinched. She wasn't expecting him to answer honestly. “Nathan, I – I don't know what you're going through, but these vibes your giving off lately are quite frankly borderline scary. If – if you ever need someone to talk to – I mean I know we aren't friends at all, like quite the contrary, but if you ever need someone to get things off your chest to. I'm here to listen,” but it was a lie, a growing habit in Max's daily life.

She cared, yes, in a way, but she never truly did, not until she brought him down to his knees in an alternative universe. Screaming accusations rolling of her tongue like a hot knife to butter, his pleas of innocence “I didn't want to do it”, “I didn't want to drug them”, “Everybody hates me” and at the end of it all, it wasn't Nathan, but Mr. Jefferson who manipulated a broken boy into committing crimes against his will. Nathan's father, a good friend of Mr. Jefferson, forced his son to work with the man or - Max didn't even want to think about it, much less say. What his father did – probably does (Max isn't sure) - to Nathan is enough to make Max tremble in rage and disgust. However, she would fix this no matter how many times she was forced to rewind. If there was one thing Max learned about life, it was that things are never set in stone and despite it being like an ancient roof, patching one hole only to find another, certain things could be fixed. Even if the outcome wasn't exactly the way you wished it to be.

Nathan breathed out heavily, eyes wide as his pulse began to race.“What the fuck are you playing at?”, he accused. Max threw her hands up quickly, “No, nothing. I just mean you've been acting – off, and I just – I just want to help is all,” she stuttered. The sincerity was obvious in tone again and Nathan forced himself to relax.“Okay,” he said awkwardly, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, uh, cool. So – I'll, uh catch you later. You know where I live so, yeah,” Max struggled to keep herself from face palming. Instead she shuffled away from Nathan and headed towards Brooke who was busy flying her drone.  _You know where I live,_ Max resisted the urge to hit herself in public as her words replayed in her mind.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was time to face his father. Nathan knew that it would only get worse the longer he dragged it out. His father was not a man you wanted to play around with, especially not when it involved his property. Nathan hesitantly raised an uncontrollably shaking hand to ring the doorbell. The urge to flee was growing by the minute, but was out of the question when one of the enormous elk doors swung open. Butler Janis stoically stood at the entrance, door handle in clenched fist. “Ah, Nathan. Welcome home,” he said with no real glee. Nathan didn't blame him, he too would hate to deal with another Prescott if he wasn't one himself. “Janis,” Nathan greeted as he walked into the mansion. “I'm here to see my father.” Janis nodded and closed the door behind Nathan.

“He is in his study, sir,” Janis respectively informed and vanished from sight shortly after. Nathan supposes he went to go set up Sean's afternoon tea, it was around the time, but probably not considering his father knew of his incoming visit. Nathan breathed out heavily and tried to mentally prepare himself before he began to lead himself through the mansion, past the twirling stairway that lead to the second floor, ignoring the countless rooms that served no purpose other than to just be, and continued past the dinning room that was large enough to host a party with the entire city. There would even be leftover space for the countless pets of the citizens. The Prescott's would never settle for anything less than overly expensive and unnecessary.

Once Sean's office door was within sight, Nathan felt a shiver run up from the base of his spine. His fingers twitched with the desire to grab something – anything – to protect him from the unpreventable wrath that would eventually come from his father. Nathan's eyes darted around and landed on one of the many busts of his father that laid around the house as decoration, then over to the framed paintings on the walls, tables with silk cloth strewn on top, exotic plants beside stone sculptures, there was nothing. Nothing at all that he could discreetly walk into the room with if for at least emotional support and nothing else. Nathan unconsciously bit onto his lip and winced once he felt pain, running his tongue over the split lip soon after. The taste of iron indicated that he made himself bleed, a tradition at this point really.

Nathan doesn't bother knocking, even if his father would be displeased by it. It didn't matter anyways, the night would end up in the same way, whether he knocked or didn't. “Nathan,” there was that condescending tone Nathan never got used to hearing. It made his foot tap on the ground, impatient to flee from the room, and desire to ignore the pranging feeling of despair at knowing he was such a disappointment to his father.

“Father,” Nathan said too quickly and his father took note of it from behind his desk that seemed to tower over Nathan. It made Nathan feel small and insecure, like his father could read his every thought despite his best attempt to push them away from his mind. “Since you seem to be in such a rush, I trust you brought my car home?”, Sean asked with narrowed eyes.

His tone far too knowing for Nathan's liking. “I – I uh – actually father,” Nathan attempted to form a coherent sentence, but the way his father was looking at him was too much. He knew his father knew. Nathan felt as if his entire body was visibly shaking under the pinning stare of Sean. “Because I contacted the school, Nathan. Do you know what they told me?” Sean stood from behind his desk and gradually made his way towards a pale Nathan. “They told me my car was nowhere in Blackwell academy. Do you know what that means, Nathan?”, but Nathan did not answer the question he knew was rhetorical. He couldn't, even if he wanted to. He couldn't trust his voice at the moment. Not with his father so close to him, breath on Nathan's face as he spoke. “That means that my car was stolen. My car worth roughly around $100,000,” but Nathan knew it wasn't about the money. It was about Nathan allowing the car to be stolen.

The punch came too soon to expect it. Nathan felt the world around him grow out of focus as his father's fist met with him temple. “Fuck,” Nathan groaned as his father grabbed Nathan by his gelled hair and forced his head up from the ground. “Do any of my lessons ever get through to you, Nathan?”, he spoke calmly as if asking for Nathan to pass the salt at the dinner table. Nathan sobbed out a cry for help as he caught sight of his father undoing his belt. “Please, no. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please dad,” Nathan begged, hands pushing at his fathers chest, but the man remained firmly hovering above Nathan. “This is your fault, Nathan,” his father blamed as he pulled his pants and trousers below mid-thigh.

Nathan sobbed a desperate scream as Sean began to undo Nathan's pants. “No, please, dad. I'm sorry, I'll pay you back. I'll do anything,” he whined in a plea for his father to stop, but there was nothing Nathan could say to change Sean's mind. There was nothing to do, but scream in agony as his father tore into him.

 

–-------

 

Nathan lied sideways on his bed staring at the bright screen of his phone. His thumb swiping from the bottom of the screen to the top as he scrolled through his contact list. He knew everyone on his phone, of course, but none of them were people he ever spoke to. The only words exchanged had to do with party dates and drug deals, but nothing else. Nothing on how one was doing, much less even the simplest of conversations that friends would have.

His thumb stopped scrolling as his eyes landed on  _Victoria_ . Nathan glanced at the clock on his night table. Piercing red numbers, despite the somberness surrounding it, informed him that it was four in the morning. She would curse him to hell and back if he were to text her at this time. Nathan looked back down at his phone and continued to the next letter of the alphabet. _Warren,_ was one of the first to appear. Nathan hesitated for a long while. Like many of the contacts on his phone, Nathan wasn't friends with Warren. The times that Warren has helped Nathan has been out of pity and an overly kind heart. There was nothing between them except coincidental run-ins, but even with that in mind, Nathan was unable to prevent himself from pressing down on the name and sending a nonsensical text. He was probably one of those nerds that stayed up late working on a project or playing video games.

 

_What's your favorite super hero?_

 

Nathan knew the text would completely throw Warren off, but Nathan needed someone to keep his mind from centering on the pills merely inches away. For what little was left of the night, Nathan was going to be unable to sleep. Behind closed lids, the images of earlier were sharply in focus. Enough to feel like it was happening again. His fathers voice clear enough to mistake him for being near, whispering blame into the shell of his ear. With sleep it only got louder and realer, touches burning his skin, and it prevented him from getting through the night without startling awake. Skin drenched in sweat causing his clothes to uncomfortably stick to his skin. His pupils dilated in pure fear as his breathing became short and shaky. It was better to skip sleep all together.

 

_Warren: Are you drunk again?  
_

 

Nathan nearly laughed at the text, but really it was sad that it was a justified response to Nathan being any kinds of friendly.

 

_I wouldn't write this literate if I was._

 

Warren seemed to catch on that there was something wrong and responded with;

 

_Warren: Raven's pretty wicked. She kicks ass and wears a leotard while doing it._

 

_Of course you're favorite super hero would be a girl._

 

_Warren: Hey, what's that suppose to mean? The girl superheros are much more cool and original than the guys._

 

_well, I do like Black Widow most out of all of the avengers._

 

_Warren: See? That's the spirit._

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The front of the school was littered with students. Their excited chatter as majority made their way to the parking lot reminded Max that it was a Saturday, the day everyone went out whether they had a destination in mind or not. Even Brooke, who preferred to spend her days tinkering with mechanics locked away in her room, was shuffling towards her parked blue Toyato. Visible on her shoulders were the straps that belonged to a large bag on her back. Going by the way she was bent forward, face scrunched up in exertion, Max could safely assume the bag was quite heavy. She was even willing to bet Brooke had her drone stuffed inside along with half of the science classroom.

As typical, Max and her friends stayed behind. They deemed Saturdays too crowded to enjoy anything and rarely ever left campus if only for a pre-planned event or a visit to their individual families. If they decided to stay, they met at one of the shaded tables in the front of the school. When no one was around, the spot could actually be considered peaceful. Hollering shouts from the skateboarders when one managed to pull a stunt was replaced by singing birds and whistling leaves. The pinning stares that were filled with judgment were gone for the rest of the day. She could look around freely without fear of meeting eyes with one of the Vortex Club members, with Victoria, to be more precise. There was nothing to stop her from enjoying the icy wind that caused goosebumps on her arms and legs without being anxious of the people around her.

This wasn't the other world she saved from absolute chaos by reverting back in time. Not the one she prevented her present girlfriend's suicide making the whole school admire her. Not where Nathan and Mr. Jefferson caused Kate's desire to die in the first place. Technically, Max supposes it is, but she assumes these events haven't begun to happen yet. In this alternative universe, Max never left Blackwell in the first place. Rachel hasn't gone missing, other girls haven't been taken wasted from Vortex parties, Chloe never dropped out (best friends with Rachel as well as Max), everything was okay. For the moment, everything was fine. Except for Nathan's mental state and Mr. Jefferson's possible in-progress-idea of the dark room.

The first day she awoke here, Max made a very confused Chloe drive her out to, in Chloe's words, the middle of fuck nowhere. The barn was just as Max remembers it, worn down with years of neglect. The hole hidden behind a plank on the side of the barn was missing, but the front doors were void of a lock. They swung open with ease, nearly detaching from the hinges at the action it hasn't experienced in years. The creaking wood whined in protest as Max made her way through the barn. Sure enough, the door hidden underneath decaying wood was still there. Max felt herself tense as she opened the cellar door, but relaxed when there was no high tech door in view. No expensive photography set-up, no computers with editing softwares, not even folders of victims. Spider webs and aging walls were the only thing occupying the empty space below.

Of course, Chloe didn't remember being here before. She had no need to, especially since the experience of driving up here for the first time was with, for a lack of better words, another Chloe.

It was hard for Max to wrap her mind around everything. She desperately wished she had the Chloe who knew about her powers back. Her amazing sidekick that she kicked ass with, but that Chloe was dead and buried beside Rachel's corpse. Max shuddered at the thought and hoped everyone believed it to be due to the cold. Things were better this way, here she had the chance to change things and knowledge of super powers or not, Chloe was alive. That's all that mattered for the moment.

“You okay, Maxie-poo?” Max turned to face Warren who was sat down on the table instead of the bench. She rolled her eyes at him. “Please don't ever call me that again,” Max sarcastically pleads. She felt a hint of betrayal as everyone, including her girlfriend, laughed along with Warren. “I think it fits,” Chloe unnecessarily adds with a mouthful of food and Max glares at her, she knew what was coming next. “It's official. Maxie-poo it is for the rest of your life,” Chloe determines with a bright smile and no matter how hard Max tries, she can't bring herself to be mad. “Please don't,” she groans. Kate pats her back sympathetically. “At least it's cute,” Kate, bless her soul, attempts to comfort. Max takes Kate's hand in hers and smiles up at her girlfriend lovingly. “Aw sick, don't start with that lovey dovey shit,” Chloe complains and throws a used napkin their way. It hits Max in the face and Max throws it back at her. The napkin missed by a great deal and Chloe laughs at her friend's poor accuracy.

“Don't be jealous, I'm sure you'll find someone to love one day,” Rachel says with a smile as Chloe rolls her eyes. Warren chuckles, which earns him a napkin to the face as well. “What about you loverboy? Who are you romancing up as of late?”, Chloe turns her attention to him. Warren shrugs before responding. “No-one.” Chloe narrows her eyes. “Yeah right. What about that cute girl?”, she asks suspiciously. “I'm not interested,” he answers simply. Max raises an eyebrow at him. “Really? I thought you guys had something going on?” Warren shrugs again. “She thought we did, but like I said. I'm not interested.” Warren's mistake was giving his back on Chloe to answer Max. “Chloe!”, Max scolded and Warren immediately turned around to face the blue-haired girl expecting the worst. He nearly facepalmed when he noticed a familiar Galaxy phone in Chloe's hands. He should have expected something like this from the noisy girl.

Rachel reaches out to snag the phone from her hands, but Chloe quickly dodges away. “Who's Sweet Angel?” Warren can feel his face grow red as he remembers the name he gave Nathan on his phone. All eyes turn to his expectantly and Warren feels betrayed. His just grateful that he managed to not mention Nathan's name in any of his text last night. “No one,” he lies through his teeth. “Texts all the way from four to eight in the morning. Doesn't sound like a nobody to me,” Chloe said with a sly grin. “Chloe,” Max repeats despite her growing interest. Chloe sighs heavily and hands the phone back to Warren, in which Warren graciously accepts back with a grin. “Don't think I won't find out,” Chloe threatens. Warren laughs as he puts his phone away. “Knowing you, I don't doubt it.”

 

–-------

_Sweet Angel: I still don't get it. Why black and white movies?_

 

_Warren: Okay, obvious you have not been dipped into the sweet and utter bliss that is black and white movies._

 

_Warren: Nathan_

 

_Warren: Nathan, don't ignore me_

 

_Sweet Angel: I'm pretending I didn't read that._

 

_Warren: At least try watching one._

 

_Sweet Angel: Fine. Which one?_

 

_Warren: Try Casablanca._

 


	6. Chapter 6

Max shifted on the bed nervously as she watched Warren work on his science project. She wasn't sure on what it was on, something about effective toxins, but it didn't really matter to her anyways. Lately Max has been feeling utterly useless – not that it was anything new – about her inability to help Nathan. She confronted him a couple of days back with a promise of something that should of had Nathan kneeling at her feet, confesing everything to Max through sobs, yet Nathan kept his distance. Wasn't what Nathan wanted a helping hand? Someone to confine in? Maybe it was that Nathan could never see himself leaning on Max. It was certainly a weird concept at this early stage. Max never thought about that as she finally found the photograph she was looking for and waved everyone goodbye - figuratively speaking - with promises of a better future.

Now here she was, struggling to get Nathan to at least talk to her, and the world was going to crumble to the ground again. After giving it much thought, she made a promise to herself that she would refrain from using her powers for good. Maybe with everything undone and her technically never using her powers ever, the tornado would not destroy the town that held everyone she cared about. However, that would not stop the blackroom and Nathan's continous rape from happening. What if it's not even happening in this alternative universe, she momentarily wondered, but shook her head at herself. It was always best to assume the worst, she learned that the hard way.

Max breathed deeply in, readying herself for what she was about to ask Warren. «Warren,» she called out. Warren spun around in his computer chair to face Max, question evident in his face. «Let's say you have a friend who, uh, is being sexually assualted-», but Warren cut her off, «Max, is someone doing something to you?», his panic shrill hurting her ears. «No, it's not me. I mean, it's just hypothetically speaking,» she attempted to reason. Warren squinted his eyes untrustfully. «Max, we both know you're crap at lying. What's going on?» Max sighed deeply, a hand rose to rub at her tired eyes. It wasn't her fault her father drilled honesty into her since birth. « I can't tell you who it is because it's not my place to say, but I want to help them and I don't know how,» she explained.

Warren nodded and leaned back into his chair, face thoughtful as he stared at his ceiling. « I suppose you could go to the police,» he suggested and Max shook her head. «No one would believe me and even if I could convince the person to go to the police they probably wont believe them either.» Warren looked away from the ceiling and met eyes with Max. «I'm sorry. I'd probably be able to give you better advice if you told me who it is,» Warren said and Max had the urge to sigh again. «You probably wouldn't care, even if you knew.» Warren tilted his head to the side. «Why do you say that?»

Max thought about the consequences of telling Warren. He wouldn't care, afterall Nathan was no one to Warren and vice versa. If anything, he'd feel sorry for the kid, but nothing else. Max mentally shrugged, she supposed it would be better to have someone else help her find a solution instead of dealing with this on her own. «You – you can't tell anyone. Alright?», she intensely urged. Warren leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and nodded firmly. «It's Nathan,» she confessed.

If there was one thing she wasn't expecting, it was the paleness that befell Warren. Eyes wide and mouth parted in shock. «Warren?», she hesitantly called out, but received no response. «Warren,» she repeated, but louder this time. Warren deeply breathed out. « I just - this is – I wasn't expected that,» he stuttered. Max suddenly felt like she was missing something. «I didn't think you would react like this,» she said honestly. Warren shrugged, only noticing how sick he felt at the motion. «I guess since you confined in me it's only fair that I confine in you. I think, in a weird messed up way, me and Nathan might possibly be something like friends,» Warren confessed and Max was speechless. She could do nothing but stare at Warren as if he had grown a second head. «Stop looking at me like that. It's not such a foreign concept,» but the way he averted his eyes and scratched the back of his head stated otherwise. He thought it was as weird as Max did. «Uh, sorry. It's just – what? When did this even? What?» Warren would have laughed at her reaction, but felt that maybe it would be inappropriate given the information just received.

«Long story short, I helped him out a couple of times and now we text each other,» he said. Max was still trying to wrap her head around things. «Wait, he's Sweet Angel? », she nearly shouted. «Is it really the moment to discuss this? », he reprimanded and Max blushed, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. « You're right, I'm sorry. It's just so odd.» Max suddenly had the urge to rewind. If Warren considered Nathan a friend or something akin to it, who knew what Warren would do? Knowing Warren, he was never one to stand by and watch a person get hurt, especially people he considered a friend. What if Warren went up to Nathan and confessed that he knew? How would Nathan react? There were so many possibilities that could lead to disaster and Max wouldn't know until it happened. However, she couldn't rewind. She couldn't risk the bigger outcome of her theory for something this small. At least when compared to a tornado wiping out an entire town. She would just have to hope for the best.

«Who – uh. Who is it that, uh – does it?», Warren suddenly asked, eyes determinedly fixed on his shoes. Would saying who add to the possibility of outcomes? Max couldn't bring herself to care at this point, she just wanted this to stop and if Warren could help in anyway, she couldn't risk keeping this to herself. « Sean. Sean Prescott,» Max swallowed harshly once she let the information go. « Jesus,» Warren breathed out. He rubbed his face with his hand. «How do you know all this?», the inevitable question was finally asked. «You know me. I'm too nosy for my own good,» she chuckled, but it just come out awkward causing her to wince at the sound of it. Warren glanced up at Max. «Thank you. For telling me, I mean,» but Max couldn't bring herself to respond. She was too busy questioning whether she made the right choice.

 

–---------

 

_Warren: This Saturday I'm going to a movie drive-in. Come with me?_

 

_Sweet Angel: What? Your hipster girlfriend isn't available?_

 

_Warren: What girlfriend?_

 

_Sweet Angel:The one your always hanging out with._

 

_Warren: Max?_

 

_Warren: If so, I think my «hipster girlfriend» would prefer to go with her christian girlfriend._

 

_Sweet Angel: Oh._

 

_Warren: Soooo?  Say yes, no, maybe soooo?_

 

_Sweet Angel: Are you just into everything old timey?_

 

_Warren: Your the first person to understand that reference._

 

_Sweet Angel: I grew up listening to singers like Barrett Strong. He's my sisters favorite._

 

_Sweet Angel: And to answer your question, I have nothing better to do._

 

_Warren: Good because I already brought your ticket. :)_

 

_Sweet Angel: You weirdo. What if I said no._

 

_Warren: But you didn't._

 

_Warren: By the way, have you had the chance to watch Casablanca?_

 

_Sweet Angel: Yeah_

 

_Warren: And???_

 

_Sweet Angel: It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be._

 

_Warren: And slowly, but surely, you shall become a black and white movie connoisseur such as yours truly._

 

_Sweet Angel: Whatever, nerd._

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Warren awoke to the sound of continously knocking at his door. Groaning, he shifted on his bed, blearily blinking his eyes open. He blindly searched for his phone on his bedside table and checked the time. _3:25 A.M._ it read. The knocking only grew more insistent and Warren unwillingly lifted the covers off his shivering body. He made a mental note to buy himself a thicker blanket. The dorms were always ridicously cold no matter the wheather outside. Warren swung his door open and came face to face with the last person he expected at this time - Chloe. «Uh,» Warren drawled out, suddenly aware of his lack of clothes except for briefs, but refused to look embarrassed about it. Not in front of Chloe who takes note of everything, even the smallest of details. Warren often wondered whether the blue-haired girl was a detective in another life.

«Common,» she said simply as if her waking Warren up at three in the morning and demanding he follow her was perfectly normal. Warren raised an eyebrow and Chloe sighed heavily. «Put on some clothes and let's go,» she spoke slowly like someone ordering their dog to preform a command it didn't understand. « Why? What's going on?» Another impatient sigh and Warren had to hold back his irritation. « Just do it,» she said as she pushed Warren deeper into the room. He wanted to complain, but he knew he could never win an argument with the punk.

Quickly, he put on the first shirt and pair of pants he could find. An Einstein cat shirt with black skinny jeans. Typically what he wears everyday anyways. He scooped up a pair of converse and quickly put them on without socks. «Alright, let's go then,» he said as he grabbed his keys.

 

–--------

 

To steal a boat. Chloe's genius plan involved stealing a five foot row boat from an old couples farm. Mary and Joseph to be more precise, Warren had dinner with them once. They were lovely couple with a good sense of humor and here Warren was, stealing their row boat. «Chloe this is not right,» he tried to reason, but Chloe only scoffed. «I've done this a hella lot before. I always return it before they notice,» she countered. Warren opened his mouth, but promptly closed it again. There was no arguing with her when she was like this. Warren knew this from experience and Max's stories of their «adventures».

Instead of standing his ground, he settled for helping Chloe by taking the other side of the boat. At a count of three, they lifted simultaneously. Warren grunted with the effort, the boat being much heavier than it appears to be. A very lovely boat it was as well. It's color a bright red on the outside and white on the inside. A typical row boat you would see in classic romantic movies. Warren suddenly had a thought and nearly dropped the boat on his toes. «You're not trying to have a romantic moment with me are you, Chloe?», he hesitantly asked. Chloe snorted loudly at his statement. «Okay, you need to lay off the romance movies, loverboy,» she shot back. Warren mentally sighed in relief. He wasn't sure how he would be able to let down the blue-haired girl that could most likely kick his ass.

Carefully, the two set the boat down on the back of Chloe's truck, pushing the boat deep into the open trunk. The scraping of wood sliding against plastic loud in the quiet night air. Warren winced at the garish sound, while Chloe remained indifferent about it. Once securely in, Chloe gave the boat one last glance before slamming shut the trunk's door. « Couldn't be any louder, could you?», Warren said meanwhile looking around for any signs of life. Specifically, people with guns who are protective of their land and property. «Their house is like five acres away, relax,» Chloe argued. She got inside the drivers side of her truck and turned on the ignition. Her old car spluttered to life with a wheeze of smoke escaping the exhaust. Warren sighed and mentally questioned why he had to be such a pushover, but got in the passenger side anyways.

Expertly, Chloe drove through the land unknown to Warren. Headlights weakly fighting off invisibility despite being at full blast. There was no road, that Warren could see. Only grass, trees, and rocks that varied from large to small. Mostly there was dirt with wheel tracks already engraved deeply within, as if created recently. He suddenly believes she has done this before, but refuses to ask how often and with who. He doesn't have to ask to know the answer is most likely often and with Max.

Land rolling past eventually ran out and Warren was left staring at a body of water just ahead. «No,» was his immediate reaction. Chloe turned to look at him. «Yes,» she replied, swinging open her rusty door and leaping out of her seat, her feet thumping as they landed on dirt. Warren could see dust erupt from beneath her, swiveling towards the headlights and gleaming as it made contact with the bright lights. He soon followed once he heard shuffling in the trunk. «This is going to be hella awesome. Don't be such a whimp, loverboy,» he heard Chloe exclaim as he neared her.

Warren refrained from rolling his eyes. « Why are we here, Chloe?», he asked slightly annoyed, hand gripping the edge of the wooden boat to prevent Chloe from continuing to drag it out. Chloe pulled her hands away, but her gaze remained fixed on the boat. « I don't want to be alone tonight,» she confessed in a whisper. Warren suddenly felt on edge at the honest confession. Chloe was never this straight forward. « Why didn't you go to Max?», he asked in confusion. Chloe's lips thinned at his remark. « She's busy,» the bitterness obvious in her tone. « And Rachel? » She scoffed at the mention of another of her best friends. « I don't know where she is,» she spat out.

Warren shifted from foot to foot. He felt that there was something more to this, but didn't want to ask. The air became tense with the silence that followed. Warren's eyes darted from the boat in his grasp to Chloe who determinedly avoided looking anywhere except straight. Warren hated when she did this, holding onto awkward silence until the other person gave in and said what they had in mind. He supposes he should be the first one to speak, otherwise he would be forced to spend the rest of the night in silent cold wilderness. « Why tonight? », he whispered, suddenly afraid to disturb the stillness around them. « It's the date my father died,» she admitted. Words carefully spoken as if her voice might crack.

« Oh, I'm s-,» but she quickly turned her head to face him, eyes hard. « Don't say your sorry. I hate that shit. I didn't tell you so you can pity me. I just don't want to think about it – about him. I need a friend to be here for me,» she explained. Warren nodded and looked away. His attention focusing on the row boat. «Help me get this into the water,» he said and tried to ignore the way he saw Chloe's eyes water before he turned away. He never knew what to do when people cried around him. He only knew how to be there for them, that's all Warren could do for Chloe at the moment.

With little effort, the two were able to get the boat onto frigid water. Gently, it swayed from side to side as they set it down, water lapping at it's shiny wooden surface. Simultaneously they hissed when cold hands met even colder water. The boat seemed able to hold two people, regularly polished with a smooth strong surface, but that didn't stop Warren from getting nervous. His biggest fear being the dark waters instilled by the night. Too many possibilities of what could be hunting underneath you without you even being aware. From what was visible, the body of water was nothing more than a small lake. Warren was just grateful it wasn't the ocean Chloe took them to.

Chloe was the first to step onto the boat. She shot her arms out when her balance was nearly lost and swung them around until she managed to get her other leg in. After making herself comfortable on one of the seats, she motioned for Warren to join her. The boat rocked as Warren mounted. Quickly, he collapsed onto his seat, unable to remain in balance for long. Chloe removed a paddle from the oarlock, using it to push away from the edge, and into deeper water. Once she was satisfied she placed it back and began to row. The silence eating away at any desire to converse the longer it grew. Even if Warren wanted to talk, he didn't know what to say and instead watched Chloe rocking back and forth, grunting with the effort of pulling their combined weight through the river.

Chloe, however good she might be at using it as a weapon, was not a fan of silence. Especially on this specific day. Warren supposes that is why she wanted someone around. « When I was younger. Max, my dad, and me used to go out on a row boat like this and pretend we were pirates. Now that I look back at it, it must have been a pathetic scene. A grown man with an eye-patch made of paper painted black, a drawn on beard, along with two little girls looking the same way. We sold it once he died, but I never forgot about it. I guess that's why I like to go out here sometimes and borrow this boat,» she said, eyes glazed as if seeing what she was describing. « Borrow is not the word I'd use. » Chloe snorted. « Steal, whatever. I always return it,» she defended.

Warren swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. « My mother passed away when I was ten and It's been me and my father ever since then. I remember she used to take me to the beach and when I was too afraid to go into the water by myself, she would come with me. All reassuring smiles and promises that nothing would happen to me. She loved the water, but I've always hated it,» he confessed. Chloe stopped rowing, setting aside the paddles. « Oh, uh, what happened?», she asked hesitantly. Warren breathed deeply in and closed his eyes. He allowed his head to fall back, face parallel to the litter of stars in the night sky, but his eyes remained shut. « Lung cancer. She had it for years and the cancer grew more and more deadly, but she never noticed. By the time she was diagnosed with cancer, it was too late to properly treat it, » Warren informed and allowed his eyes to open. He was met with twinkling lights standing out from the pitch black of the sky. « You never think it's going to happen to you, until it does and your entire world is shattered.» Chloe nodded melancholy and stood slowly. She began to strip and Warren's attention was snapped away from the stars.

«Uh?», he drawled out in shock. His mouth agape as she removed her shirt and moved on to her pants. « Relax, loverboy. We're going for a swim, I'm not trying to seduce you,» she laughed. There go her pants. « W-we?», he stuttered. She glared at him, pointed a finger at his chest. « Strip. We're going swimming,» she commanded. « Were you just not listening or just pretending to? I hate the water. Especially at night, it's so creepy. What if there's crocodiles or something.» Chloe rolled her eyes as she removed her beanie. « It's a man made lake. There's nothing here except fish and ducks.» Warren sighed in relief at the knowledge. « I'm still not going in. It's like 25 degrees out,» he argued. Chloe shrugged,  « Alright stay here and be boring. I'm hella outtie.» She stood and swiftly dived into the frigid water. Warren gasped as water splashed up and met skin. « Fuck that's cold,» he hissed.

Chloe rose moments later screaming, startling Warren, but relaxed once she burst into laughter. « That's hella fucking cold,» she exclaimed. Warren shook his head at her. «Your crazy,» he stated, but she only laughed louder. « Aw common. Jump in. The waters just fine,» she said dramatically and Warren scoffed. «Yeah, I got some on me. No, its not,» he monotoned. « Does Sweet Angel know you're this dull?», she teased. « Sweet Angel loves me for who I am,» he said in fake defense. Chloe splashed water towards Warren and he yelled as he shirt became drenched. «Chloe!», he shouted, his tone scolding. « At least tell me who Sweet Angel is,» she begged. Complete with puppy dog eyes and a pout. « You wouldn't believe me even if I told you.» Chloe chuckled and swam closer to the boat. « That bad?» Warren shook his head. « No not bad. Just...odd,» he corrected. « You know I'll find out whether you tell me or not, right?» It was Warren's turn to laugh. « I don't doubt your detective skills one bit, Sherlock,» he said with a light smile.

 

–-------------

 

_Warren: Dogs or cats?_

 

_Sweet Angel: Both, but I prefer cats._

 

_Warren:Yeah, I thought as much._

 

_Sweet Angel:What the fuck is that suppose to mean?_

 

_Warren: Thanks for proving my point._

 

_Warren: Nathan_

 

_Warren: Nathan_

 

_Warren:I didn't mean it in a bad way. You're just difficult to predict, like a cat._

 

_Sweet Angel: Whatever_

 

_Warren: Being predictable is boring you know_

 

_Sweet Angel: Okay, I get it. You're off the hook._

 

_Warren: \\( ' 0 ' )/_

 

_Sweet Angel: What about you? Cats or dogs?_

 

_Warren: Cats are awesome, but not cuddly like dogs. I prefer a pet I can cuddle with._

 

_Sweet Angel: I don't know why I expected you to answer with something like that._

 

_Warren: Because I'm predictable, like a dog._

 

_Sweet Angel: I suppose that's true._

 

_Warren: Hey! You're suppose to say « No Warren, you're super interesting. The way you relate to a dog is by your kind personality and cute face»_

 

_Sweet Angel: I'm not nearly drunk enough to say that._

 

_Warren: You've been drinking and you're still awake? How do you even function? It's like five in the morning._

 

_Sweet Angel: You're awake too._

 

_Warren: But I haven't been drinking. I knock out with like five beers._

 

_Sweet Angel: Of course you do._

 

_Warren: Shut up and go to sleep_

 

_Sweet Angel: Don't tell me what to do_

 

_Sweet Angel:Warren_

 

_Sweet Angel: Fine, I'll go to sleep._

 

_Warren: Goodmorning. Sleep tight._

 

_Sweet Angel: Smartass._

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

«I think people saw us leave together,» was the first thing Nathan said since Warren and him had left campus together. Warren was expecting him to say something like that, but it didn't stop the sting he felt at those muttered words. Suddenly, he became highly aware of the steering wheel in his hands. It felt that any slight movement would make him loose control of his car. That he would crash into one of the incoming cars from the other lane or steer off the road, smashing his newly brought car into a tree.

It could have just been Warren's nervousness. Still, his foot drew slightly away from the peedle and their speed reduced by what felt like ten. Warren noted it only went down by five. « Does it matter?», Warren asked as calmly as he could manage. Nathan shrugged, turning his head to look out the window at the landscape whizzing past. « I suppose not,» he mumbled. Even if he wanted to, Nathan couldn't say the truth. He couldn't say that the palms of his hands were sweating. Couldn't ask whether Warren could hear the pounding of his heart that was too loud in his ears.

What if Hayden, who saw them walking side by side to Warren's car, told his father? What if others who saw them leave together made rumors, like people always do. Gossip, whether true or false, always found its way around town. Especially any that involved a Prescott. « Okay,” Warren said. Having nothing more to say, the car was enveloped in silence, which was exactly what Warren was fearing. He reached his hand over to turn on the radio and a catchy pop song bursted through the silence. Due to his ancient speakers, it crackled with the thumbing bass. The chorus seemed familiar to Warren, but he couldn't recall the words well enough to sing along. He settled for tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along to the beat.

“ Your speakers suck,” Nathan commented, head still turned towards the window. Warren scoffed as he made a right turn at the stoplight. “Not everyone can be rich enough to afford everything new. He's a work in progress, I'm fixing him bit by bit,” Warren said with a proud smile. He loved his car, no matter its faults, which were numerous, but not important enough to hurt his wallet too badly. It's the best car, and only car, he has had so far. “You refer to your car as a he?”, Nathan asked as he faced Warren. “What am I suppose to refer to it as?”, Warren asked, confusion honest in his tone. “I don't know, an it? Or maybe a her. Isn't that what people typically refer to their car as?” Warren shook his head no. “Ah, but Kinder is a he. I felt it in my heart when I first got him,” he lovingly said. Nathan went to roll his eyes, but noticed a huge glowing sign that read “Alpha Drive-In” that hovered above a ticket booth.

Warren drove up to the booth and rolled down his window. A bored looking man sat hunched on a wooden chair with a travel magazine in hand. He glanced their way, but his expression remained the same. “Can I help you,” he drawled. Warren could see Nathan lean in from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, you could get off your ass and take our tickets,” he ordered, eyes narrowed in annoyance. Warren's mouth fell open as he turn to stare at Nathan in disbelief. Nathan shrugged and handed Warren the tickets in his hand.

Warren looked back at the man who's face fell once he noticed who the one talking was. “Sorry, Mr. Prescott,” a twitch from Nathan, “It would be my pleasure to help you,” the man respectfully said as he abruptly stood and took the tickets from Warren's hands. “I'm so sorry about him,” Warren said with mortification, but the man waved him off. “It is no problem at all. Please, enjoy your movie.” The man returned to his station and pushed a button that raised the gate in front of Warren's car. Warren drove past the gate and into a wide field of grass with an enormous projector screen in the far end. Considering it was a Saturday, the field was packed with other cars. “What the fuck, Nathan,” Warren scolded as he began to search for parking. The rows closest to the screen were taken and he was forced to park farther than he normally did. The view was only sacrificed by a bit, but they were still close enough to enjoy the movie.

“Whatthefuckever, you saw him. He wasn't even doing his job properly,” Nathan spat out with his arms crossed. “It's a Saturday, Nathan. He doesn't want to be working. No one wants to be working on a Saturday,” Warren argued as he put his car in parking and rolled down the windows. Turning the key towards him, Warren switched off the car and only left the radio running after tuning in to the correct station. He looked up at the screen just in time to catch a woman screaming for a her life in, what he assumed, was a scary movie trailer.

“Don't fucking talk to me as if I were a child,” Nathan nearly shouted and Warren regretted putting the windows down. He hoped everyone decided to keep theirs closed. “I'm not talking to you as if you were a child. I'm just saying that what you did was wrong,”Warren spoke deliberately soft in hope that Nathan would follow his example. “And how exactly is that not talking to me as if I were a child?”, Nathan muttered. At least he kept his voice down this time, Warren thought.

“Okay Nathan, I'm sorry, just – just don't do that again, okay?”, Warren pleaded, his gaze drew away from the screen to look at Nathan whose eyes refused to met Warren's. “Fine,” he said, but it sounded forced. Of course Nathan would do something like that again. He was a Prescott and afterall, there was no escape from being a Prescott. Warren sighed deeply and leaned back into his seat. His head bounced off the fabric headrest as he let it fall back.“You really are like a cat,” he muttered, but Nathan caught sound of it. “Fuck you.” Warren sighed again, but turned to face Nathan. “Like I said before, it's not a bad thing. It just means that you are difficult to predict, what you say, what you do, it's all so unpredictable. It's difficult to know how to be around you,” Warren explained.

“Then why did you invite me out?”, Nathan asked bitterly.“Because of the very same reason. Despite your faults, you're interesting and you look like someone who needs a friend.” The movie they came to watch began to play on the projector, but both paid no attention as they showed a car driving down a winding road. “I don't need you're pity,” Nathan spat, finally facing Warren as he uncrossed his arms. “I would never pity a Prescott, believe me, but I do want to be your friend Nathan,” Warren said sincerely as he tried to hold his tongue. He did pity Nathan, but for reasons that he couldn't say. Nathan felt his body involuntarily freeze. He opened his mouth to speak, but promptly closed it when he realized he had nothing to say. Even if he did, Warren already turned his attention to the movie playing on screen. Nathan looked away from Warren, turning to the movie as well.

A petite woman with blonde hair yelled insults at a well dressed buff man. A profound black beard covered half his face, while the woman had perfectly arched eyebrows. The man abruptly stood to his feet from his chair, leaning over the recently polished desk in front of him, and began to spew insults back at the woman creating a shouting match. Their voices were slightly distorted due to Warren's speakers, but that wasn't the reason Nathan couldn't focus on what they were saying. He never had a person say they wanted to be his friend without hidden intentions. If a person came to talk to him it was because they wanted a hook up or money. No one wanted to truly be his friend, not with his aggressive personality. There was Victoria, of course, but he was nice to her from the start. Not like how he had been to Warren, rude and a nuisance. Yet here they were, watching a movie, tickets paid by Warren, in Warren's car, because Warren invited him out and Nathan continued being an asshole to the guy. God, he really does deserve to be called a Prescott.

“I'm sorry,” Nathan mumbled. Warren snapped his head in Nathan's direction, surprise evident in his expression. “What?”, he breathed out. “I'm sorry,” Nathan said more clearly, but avoided looking Warren's way. “I heard, just – uh – I wasn't expecting that.” Of course he wasn't, thought Nathan. Neither would Nathan if he were in Warren's worn out converse. “ It's okay. I'm not mad. I was expecting for something like that to happen anyways. In all actuality, I was expecting for an outburst to be directed towards me and not someone else,” Warren continued once he realized Nathan wasn't going to say anything. He didn't want to be dragged back into silence, even if they were watching a movie. Warren was never one for remaining quiet during movies. There were just too many things to point out, to criticize, to hypothesize. “Earlier you called me a Prescott,” Nathan suddenly brought up and Warren raised an eyebrow. “Don't refer to me as that,” he said, but it sounded like a plea. His lips curled in and his eyebrows drawn together. Warren suddenly felt like hitting himself over the head with the nearest heavy object. An unpleasant sensation rumbled in his stomach as he was reminded of the conversation he had with Max. “ Won't happen again,” he promised, but his voice cracked and he cursed himself for being weak. How was he suppose to help Nathan when he would fall to his knees were he standing?

Warren looked back at the screen. The blonde woman now held out her hand in front of her as the man willingly shook it. “Did you notice the way the cut on his cheek switched sides?”, he said as he tried his best to keep his voice from trembling. Nathan didn't seem to notice going by the way he broke into laughter, the sound highly foreign to Warren's ears. “Of course you'd notice that.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so once again I will upload more chapters simply because I suck at continuancy. I'm not 100 percent sure about these four chapters I'm putting up, I don't feel like I edited them well enough, but either way I hope you enjoy them.

Warren barely dodged the bouncy ball thrown his way. “Chloe, you know my reflexes suck,” he scolded as he closed his textbook. It would be impossible to study anywhere near Chloe, especially a bored one. “ Aren't you suppose to be in class right now?”, he asked and Chloe barked in laughter. “ Yeah, but I want to hang out with you. Don't you feel honored?”, she said with a sly smirk making Warren roll his eyes.

“Oh most definitely,” he said sarcastically. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone vibrated on his computer desk. Reaching for his phone, he unlocked it, and read a message sent from Max.

_Max: Is Chloe mad at me?_

Warren looked up at Chloe who was eyeing him suspiciously. “It's not Sweet Angel,” he immediately dismissed and she groaned, dropping her head into his mattress with disappointment. Warren chuckled at her act of false distress. “It's Max. She's asking me whether you're mad at her or not,” he informed. She lifted her head just enough to have Warren in view. “No,” her voice muffled by the mattress. “No?”, he echoed her response. Chloe nodded and lifted her head fully. “Okay, I may be holding a bit of a grudge, but I'll get over it soon enough like always. Me and Maxo will go back to being stuck at the hip in no time,” she confessed. Warren looked down at the phone in his hand and sent the first thing that came to mind.

_You forgot her dad's death date_

Then again, maybe he should have thought about his response a bit more. He set the phone on his thighs as he waited a reply. “What did you tell her?”, Chloe asked with an eyebrow raised in suspicion. “Just that you're not angry,” his lie slithered past his teeth expertly. Chloe nodded and rolled over to watch his uninteresting white ceiling. His phone alerted him of a new text with a vibrate.

_Max: Oh, shit._

Oh shit indeed, thought Warren. “Her again?”, Chloe mumbled. “Yeah, she just said that she knows your mad at her and to tell you she's sorry,” he answered as he busied himself texting Max back.

_Make it up._

Chloe turned her head to face Warren. He could see a hint of surprise in her expression. “Does she know what she did?”, she asked with anticipation. Another vibrate from his phone. Warren held up a finger as he read the newly arrived text.

_Max: How am I suppose to make up for something like that?_

“She says that she feels terrible about forgetting such an important date and that she's going to make it up somehow,” he made up in the spot. Chloe sat up on his bed in order to face Warren fully. “Oh,” she mumbled.

_I told her that you feel bad about forgetting and that you're going to make it up somehow. Figure something out, you know her better than I do._

“Have you ever seen any of the Hobbit movies?”, he asked suddenly. “Seen? I love that shit,” she said with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. Warren raised both eyebrows, he wasn't expecting the blue-headed girl to like the Hobbit movies. Maybe they had more things in common than he originally believed. “Wanna have a marathon?”, he asked with a wide smile. “Hella yes.”

–--------------------

 

Max sighed heavily as she read the newly received text from Warren. She glanced up at Kate who was busy drawing on a white sheet of paper. She stood and peeked over Kate's shoulder. “What are you drawing?”, her tone soft in order to not startle Kate. She had a way of going into a trance when she was drawing, like if she were worlds away. Max wished she were able to shut the world off that way, blind and deaf to everything except one specific thing. With photography, Max had to be highly aware of her surroundings because any moment could be the perfect shot.

Max chuckled at the way Kate startled despite her best attempt to not startle her girlfriend. “Oh, Max. You scared me. I was just practicing landscape,” she said with a smile as she looked up at Max. The paper on her desk held what seemed to be a fantasy world. Towering mountains overlooking a futuristic city, completed with flying cars and oddly shaped buildings. To Max, it seemed perfect from the symmetry to the shadowing. She could have even confused it for photography if she hadn't been told otherwise. “I will never understand how you people do that,” Max muttered. “Us people?”, Kate asked with eyebrows drawn together. “Artist. I mean, this is amazing,” Max said in awe, her fingers grazing the surface of the drawing. She found herself feeling disappointment when she felt nothing but paper.

“You're an artist too, love,” Kate reminded. She reached out and took Max's hand into her own. “ Yeah, but different kinds. This is much cooler.” Kate shook her hand as she intertwined their fingers together. “ I've seen some of your photographs. Not everyone can do what you do with a camera, you know?”, Kate complimented. Her lips upturned when she felt Max give her hand a squeeze.

“Kate, I screwed up,” Max sighed out. Kate tilted her head sideways, question evident in the gesture. “I forgot Chloe's father's death date and she hates me for it.” Kate swiftly stood to her feet, and with their fingers still intertwined, lead Max to the bed. She sat herself down on the lumpy mattress and tugged Max down beside her. “I doubt it,” she dismissed. “I would hate me,” Max said downheartedly. “No you wouldn't,” Kate said through a laugh. “I'm sure you'll find something to make up for it. You always do,” Kate finished with a reassuring smile. She gave Max's hand a slight squeeze when Max let out another sigh. “I suppose you're right. I'll figure something out,” Max muttered.

What she couldn't say was that she never forgot about the important date in the first place. How could she ever forget the worst day in Chloe's life? Especially when she was there to witness the heart shattering reaction from Chloe in person. She remembers it vividly, striking contrast as the world pulsed when she received the news. It only grew worse when she glanced Chloe's way. Her fist pounding on the floor as she wailed in pain when the news finally sunk in enough to realize what this meant. When it finally hit her that she was never going to see her father again. Never going to hear him make jokes, never going to have him be by her side again. It caused Max a huge headache and it wasn't because of Chloe's tortured screams, but because the colors became too intense, the lights too bright. Even as she closed her eyes, she could hear the vibrant colors humming distortedly. It wasn't odd at the moment, Max always thought it was a normal sensation for when you felt any intense emotion, but now she realizes it was her powers associating with her feelings.

She didn't forget William's death date because that would be impossible. What she did do, was choose to quietly follow Rachel and lie about it by saying she was hanging out with Kate. It broke her heart to have Chloe not text her back because she knew what that meant. Chloe thought that Max had forgotten and Max felt awful having her believe something that couldn't be any further from the truth. That day, however, she noticed Rachel sneaking out of her dorm room when Max was just exiting the bathroom after a shower. To Max this could only mean one thing, Rachel was sneaking off to met up with Frank. Max wasn't sure whether this would have a negative impact on anything or whether it mattered at all, but since it was a previously existing relationship, maybe it meant a repetition of events, in which could lead to repetition of other worse events.

As discreetly as possible, Max snuck into her room and put on the first pair of shoes she found thrown about her room. She raced to her door and swung her door open just in time to catch Rachel's silhouette exiting the dorms. Max glanced down at the time blaring from her phone and groaned. It was five forty two PM and Chloe always came around at six o'clock to drag her off into some unknown adventure that at least vaguely related to her father. Chloe's favorite was the rowing boat in which they typically stole every once in awhile, death date or not. Max put her phone away and tried to ignore the guilt that overcame her as she followed Rachel into the growing night.

Following Rachel was simpler than she expected it to be. As she walked through the school, Rachel glanced down at her phone every five seconds that would pass. When not, she would bite into one of her painted nails in nervousness, her mind obviously paying no mind to her surroundings. Rachel was obviously up to something and it was odd to see her acting this way. Typically, Rachel would walk with such confidence and grace, she would put a Leopard to shame. However, as Max carefully stayed out of sight, she noticed Rachel's sagged shoulders as she shuffled along past the front of the school and into the parking lot.

Max dodged behind a Mustang once she caught up and raised her head over the hood to be able to see. Rachel paced in circles as she seemingly waited for someone or something. Her arms repetitively crossed and uncrossed, her pacing would change directions every five steps, and she sighed enough times to annoy a monk. Max grew anxious simply by watching her. She found herself wondering whether this was the first time she met up with Frank. It was a little weird for Frank to come to Blackwell to pick up or met with a student being that he deals drugs, but Max supposes it didn't matter since the surveillance remained slack. David hasn't gone (or won't go?) full psycho mode yet, but would a drug dealer really risk showing up at a school for one of the students? He did before in the "other world", Max didn't see why he wouldn't in this one, even if she found it mega risky and stupid. Max felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and she swiftly pulled it out as she ducked behind the car again to hide the bright screen.

_Chloe: Yo where ya at?_

Max sighed deeply as she read Chloe's message. She had no choice, but to lie.

_I'm hanging with Kate. Why?_

With a heavy heart she tucked her phone back into her pocket and peered over the hood again. “There you are,” she heard Rachel breathe out as she faced the entrance to the parking lot. Max followed her line of sight only to have her eyes land on the last person she expected to be meeting Rachel. Familiar blonde hair bounced around as Victoria did her usual strut towards Rachel. Max suddenly wanted to facepalm, or maybe slam her head into the hood of the Mustang she was hiding behind. She blow off Chloe on such an important date for this? She felt like the worst person in existence. Even if Rachel was meeting Frank, what did it matter? A relationship that barely had any impact at all in the previous world that she was in would most likely hold no significance at all. Max sighed deeply and discreetly snuck away from both girls she completely shut out. Whatever kind of relationship they had going on mattered little to Max. The only thing that Max was currently worried about was the reckless blue-haired girl being alone on a day that wrecked her completely inside out.

She checked her phone, but found no messages in her inbox. She could text Chloe again, but what would she say? That she was just kidding and knew Chloe needed her today? Tell her the truth and say she followed Rachel because in another world she gets into a relationship with a drug dealer, but it's all okay because she might just be in a relationship with Victoria instead? Both options sounded like bad ideas at the moment. Max heaved another sigh as she shoved her phone angrily into the pocket of her sweater. “Damn it all to hell.”

 

–-----------

 

_Pet Monkey: Hey, look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I'm a real shit friend I know, but you have to understand how sorry I am. Come to my dorm room as soon as possible._

 

_Chloe: Yea k watever._

 

_Pet Monkey: Is that a yes?_

 

_Chloe: Yea yea hold ur goddamn horses Im going. warren gotta pause movie 1st._

 

_Pet Monkey: You're with Warren ?_

 

_Chloe: Yea we making out n everything u lost ur chance kiddo._

 

_Pet Monkey: Just get over here._

 

_Chloe: Going._

 

– _\----------_

 

The sudden bang on the door startles Max and she nearly falls from her bed. She rolls her eyes once she realizes who it has to be and heads over to her door. On a count of three, she swung open the door and shouts “ ARRGG!” Chloe screams as she flinches back with fists raised, ready for a fight, but lowers her defense when she recognizes Max. “Seriously?”, she pants out, a hand placed over her heart as if it would give out at any minute. Max raises her hand, which is replaced by a fake hook. “Welcome to the sea, matey,” she says in her best – yet worse – pirate impersonation. Chloe flicks Max's eye-patch as she doubles over in laughter. “No fucking way,” she said in between gasps of air.

Max remodeled her entire room in a way that imitated a pirate ship sailing through the sea. The floor was covered with paper which, thanks to Kate's help, resembled the ocean with waves. Her bed was obviously the ship, more construction paper surrounding the bottom of the bed making it look like the front of an old trusty wooden ship. Max grabs a hold of Chloe's wrists and drags her off to the “ship” after closing her door. Chloe only laughed harder as Max pushed her towards the bed. “Hurry, matey, the sea monsters are approaching.” Max emphasized the approaching danger by pointing at the giant purple octopus hanging from her wall with her hook hand. “Where me gear at?”, shouted Chloe when she finally got into character. Max jumped on the bed and pointed to a cheap looking chest at the end of her bed.

Chloe crawled towards the chest and flung it open, taking the eyepatch, hook hand, fake mustache, and plastic sword from inside. “Hand me me sword, matey!”, yelled Max as she begun to wave her hook hand at the unmoving octopus. In her head, she was attempting to fend it off using the gruffly appearance of a pirate. After-all, they were the biggest and toughest pirates that dared to sail any and all seas. Whether it held the meanest monsters, all teeth and uncontrollable rage, or the nastiest storms which can sink even the most expensive ships, Chloe and Max were the infamous pirates that everyone hated to love. Max easily caught the sword thrown her way and began waving that at the monster instead. It growled ferociously at being threatened by something sharper. The sword gleamed as the sunlight danced over its blade.

Chloe joined her and raised her weapon at the creature as well. “What's the plan, captain?”, she gruffly yelled over the sound of waves crashing into the ship. Max pulled a string which drew the octopus near the decorated bed. “Just try n' stay alive, matey!”, she yelled as a tentacle slammed into the side of their ship. “This will be a long battle,” Max muttered, lip upturned to show her displeasure. “Aye, yet we be the mightiest pirates in all of Finderland,” Chloe said as she swung her sword around for emphasis. Together, they could conquer anything.

 


	10. Chapter 10

With their posters that littered the hallways of Blackwell, to the stuck up students that belonged to it, Warren hated the Vortex Club. In his opinion, it was a stupid club used now only for the purpose of separating the rich kids from the rest of the students. A way to emphasis their status and tease the other students for their lack of money, like a man waving a sandwich at a salivating dog. Most of all, however, he hated the way the members treated non-members. Specifically, what majority of the school considered nerds, such as himself and Daniel. It was typical for either of them to get picked on regularly. Doors written and drawn on, rooms broken into and teepied, locks changed, and so on. A day never went by where Warren wasn't wondering “What will they do today?”.

The answer to the question today, was steal Daniel's drawing pad. Warren sighed heavily at the scene before him. Zachary waved the sketch book above Daniel's head as Daniel leaped off the ground and reached for his stolen property. Every time Daniel would land back down, Zachary lowered the drawing pad and waved it around teasingly. Daniel would leap up again, fingertips nearly making contact, as Zachary tore it back up and out of hands reach, a cruel chuckle slithering past his teeth. Logan stood beside laughing along as he watched Daniel struggle against the taller and stronger boy.

“Hey!”, yelled Warren and all eyes turned to him causing him to shudder despite himself. There was nothing worse than having the attention of bullies focused on you. Their cocky smirks that only served to remind him that he had no chance up against them, along with their narrowed eyes that displayed interest at the sudden intrusion. They thought that they were better than everyone, bigger, and stronger. That there was nothing in the world that could hurt them and there was nothing worse than to deal with than a cocky person with dangerous intentions. Warren swallowed harshly, yet stood his ground as Logan raised an eyebrow at Warren. “What?”, Logan asked crudely. “Give him back his sketch book,” Warren firmly ordered and both bullies broke into laughter.

“Okay then knight, come save your princess,” Zachary said through gasps of breath. Warren felt the sigh escape his lips before he could even think to do it. “Alright,” Warren said as he stepped towards the still laughing boys. “Oh my god Zach, he's actually going to try,” said Logan who at this point had tears in his eyes. With a hand, he wiped the tears away and began to gather himself as Warren got closer. “Go to your room and locked the door, Daniel,” ordered Warren. Daniel rose his eyebrows and Warren held back the deep desire to sigh again. “Just do it,” he commanded. “Listen to your mother,” said Zachary through barely held back laughter. Logan shoved Zachary's shoulder as Daniel followed orders and left the three standing alone in the hallway. He glanced at Warren with worry before he shut himself in his room, locking the door shortly after.

Warren breathed deeply in as he readied himself for what he was about to do. Clenching his fist tightly, Warren silently counted to three before drawing his arm back and taking a swing at Zachary. He felt an explosion of pain as his fist made contact with Zachary's cheek, but settled for ignoring it as Zachary plummeted to the ground, groaning and cradling his bruising cheek. Warren wasted no time in grabbing the Drawing pad Zachary dropped and making a run for the dorms' exit. He didn't have to look to back to know Logan tore off after him, the pounding of his footsteps following closely behind clear to Warren's ears. Warren found himself comparing it to the beat of his racing heart, an overbearing sound that seemingly thundered in his ears.

The distance between them grew smaller and smaller, but Warren couldn't help but feel exhilarated. He never stood his ground against the people that pestered him daily, but now, with knowledge that he just broke his fingers punching Zachary, and was running faster than he ever had before, Warren felt a thrill flaring up inside of him. For the first time in a long time, Warren felt in control.

A heavy weight crashed into Warren's back and he fell forward into the grass. They slid an inch or two and Warren's clothes colored green from the grass. He grimaced at the taste of dirt in his mouth and spat out any that got in. He wasn't able to make it very far, more specifically, he was only able to make it to the front of the dorms building before Logan was able to catch up and bring him down. Warren grunted under the heavy weight of the football player, his knee painfully digging into Warren's back. Logan flipped him around and grabbed a fist full of Warren's shirt, lifting him slightly off the ground to bring their faces closer together. “The fuck is your problem, Graham?”, Logan asked through gritted teeth. “You told me to save my princess so I did,” Warren slickly responded.

The punch came too suddenly to predict it, much less dodge it, as Logan's fist was brought down against Warren's eye. Adrenaline pumping in his body prevented Warren from feeling the full burst of pain, but his vision became unfocused and his thoughts muddled as he tried to piece together what just happened. It didn't take him long to figure out he had just been punched as another fist was brought down on his face. This time Logan aimed for his cheek and the sudden impact made Warren bite down hard on his cheek. The metallic taste in his mouth became overwhelming as blood poured from the torn apart skin. “Fuck,” he groaned as Logan pushed him back against the ground and stood to his feet, his shadow that loomed over the beat up boy was replaced by blaring brightness. Warren covered his eyes with an arm to shield him from the sun, too bright to allow him to keep his eyes open. “I,” he heard Logan say, but then nothing followed except the soft thumping of feet on grass that grew farther and farther away until Warren could no longer hear it.

Warren wanted to know what Logan was going to say, but he also wanted to get up and found himself unable to. Even with his eyes closed and shielded to prevent any light from hitting them directly, his vision swarmed. “Fuck,” he groaned again, but it sounded distorted to his ears. He wanted to chuckle, but his entire body protested against it, his lips seemingly glued together. He felt a sudden tiredness hit him and his body felt twice as heavy than before. It wouldn't hurt to catch up on some sleep in the middle of a field, he thought. Either way, whether he wanted to or not, there was no preventing unconsciousness from taking over his mind.

 

–-------------

 

Warren startled awake when something solid made contact with his side. His eyes fluttered open, but was met with nothing but darkness. He silently freaked for a moment before realizing his arm was thrown over his eyes. “Warren,” he heard a familiar voice say from what seemed like miles away, but considering the contact, he would assume they were standing right beside him. Slowly, Warren lifted his arm away from his eyes. He hissed when his eyes burned, suddenly exposed to the blazing sun. It took awhile to adjust, blinking harshly until he began to see colors beside radiant white.

“Warren,” he heard be repeated more clearly. Delicately, in order to keep his vision steady, he turned his head to see blue hair, the face blurred by bright rays of sun. “Shit dude, what the fuck happened to your face?”, and with that he was finally able to give a name to a familiar voice. “Chloe?”, he grunted, voice gruff as if he hadn't spoken for years. “Yeah, you okay?”, she said as she poked his bruised eye. His entire body twitched away from the contact and Chloe quickly drew her hand away. Warren suddenly became heavily aware of the blaring pain he felt in his face and groaned. “Shit, sorry,” said Chloe, her face more clear as she kneeled down besides Warren instead of hovering over him.

“What time is it?”, asked Warren as he shifted into a sitting position with much difficulty. He never understood how people were able to get up the next day after knocking out on the floor in Vortex Club parties. His shoulders felt stiff and his back tingled unpleasantly, but that could have been due to having been tackled by a football player twice his size. “two o'clock,” answered Chloe as she touched Warren's face more delicately. She avoided making contact with the black and blue of Warren's eye and cheek. Instead she traced around it, hissing at how painful it looked. “Dammit, I got class in twenty minutes,” Warren groaned, turning to fully face Chloe. “Whatever, who cares? Go to class and show what a badass you are,” Chloe said with a smirk and drew her hand away from Warren's face.

“I got beat up.” Chloe burst into laughter at that statement. “Yeah, hella obvious, but you took it like a man,” she said with an arm flexed to emphasize what she meant. “I knocked out,” Warren said with a hint of a smile. “But you woke up. Coulda slipped into a coma and died, but you didn't.” Chloe leaned back into the palm of her hands and trailed her eyes over Warren's shirt and jeans. “Might wanna change,” she said as she pointed to the grass stains on his clothes. Warren grunted, but stood to his feet and stretched. “Thanks for waking me,” Warren said half-heartedly as he waved a hand in her direction, his numb and swollen fingers now becoming obvious as well. He felt relief when he found himself able to move them despite the pain it caused to do so. “What are friends for if not to wake you from a concussion?”

 

–---------------------

 

_Sweet Angel: What the fuck happened to your face?_

 

_Warren: Just being the everyday knight in shining armor I am._

 

_Sweet Angel: Warren, I'm being serious._

 

_Warren: Could have asked me in person if you were so concerned._

 

_Warren: I'm sorry, that was uncalled for._

 

_Sweet Angel: Was it Zachary?_

 

_Warren: No, but if you're referring to his bruises, yes, that was me. The one who returned the gesture was Logan._

 

_Sweet Angel: Oh._

 

_Warren: Yeah._

 

_Sweet Angel: And your fingers?_

 

_Warren: At first I thought I broke them, but luckily I just spained them._

 

_Sweet Angel: And you wrapped it up with toilet paper instead of, oh I don't know, going to a doctor?_

 

_Warren: In my defense I didn't have time to look for my first aid kit._

 

_Sweet Angel: Of course you would have one of those._

 

_Warren: You wont be saying that when you need a bandage._

 

_Sweet Angel: I'm sure I will._

 

_Warren: I'm going to knock out now if you don't mind. Pretty sure I'm suffering from a concussion._

 

_Sweet Angel: Is that even how a concussion works?_

 

_Warren: Would you maybe want to go bungie jumping one day?_

 

_Sweet Angel: Okay, never mind, maybe you are suffering from a concussion._

 

_Warren: Okay, maybe not bungie jumping, but traveling. Like maybe go on a trip to Belgium._

 

_Warren: I mean, I don't have the money right now, but when I do, we could do a week long trip or something._

 

_Sweet Angel: You need to go to sleep._

 

_Warren: Alright, fine, but only if you agree._

 

_Warren: Nathan_

 

_Warren: Dude, common it'll be fun_

 

_Warren: Winnie the Pooh is sad as shit_

 

_Warren: Like have you seen any of the movies?_

 

_Warren: Dear god, the one where Tiger thinks he has a family of his own kind and the rest of the group try and fake his families existence_

 

_Warren: But at the end, he ends up realizing that he is the only one of his species_

 

_Warren: And everyone else says “But we are your family Tiger”_

 

_Warren: And he's like “Omg you guys totally are my family” and everyone hugs it out and cries_

 

_Warren: Wait, maybe the crying part was only me_

 

_Warren: I'm going to keep bothering you until you respond.  
_

 

_Sweet Angel: Omfg okay I'll go with you to Belgium just shut the fuck up._

 

_Warren: Awesome, goodnight butt cakes._

 

_Sweet Angel: I'm not even going to ask._

 

_Sweet Angel: Wait, aren't you not suppose to go to sleep if you have a concussion?_

 

_Warren: Proven myth. Typically, if the symptoms you are experiencing link back to a regular concussion, most doctors urge you to sleep. I read about it that time I stayed watching you overnight._

 

_Sweet Angel: Good to know you're not going to slip into a coma and die or something._

 

_Warren: You do care <3_

 


	11. Chapter 11

Max groaned as she stretched her arms above her head. The ache in her back shoulder from where it was dislocated still lingered, haunting her from the alternative universe she had come from. It was no longer dislocated once she rewinding back years into the past, yet it still throbbed underneath her skin, reminding her that she was connected with the reality she was "originally" born in whether she wanted to be or not. Everytime she felt her shoulder uncomfortably pulse, the questions she desperately tried to keep away resurfaced into her mind, clear and stubborn.

When she rewinded, did the her present at that time remain there or did she completely cease from existence? Did that leave the people she was with at that time stranded and alone? If so, how many Chloe's were there in existence? Were there multiple existences? Different worlds that were connected by recurrence of events at a specific time in place? But if it were that way, why did the events change sometimes? Why was Warren friends with Nathan in this world, but in an alternative universe enemies with him?

If that changed, then maybe there was a possibility Nathan's rape changed? But no, she had seen the bruises and Warren told her about the first time he helped Nathan. There was also that look in his eyes, the same look Max previously was too blind by rage to notice were pleading for help. They didn't change in this alternative universe, blue orbs that when he was alone never looked up unless they had to. Instead, they remained fixed on his shadow as if afraid it would came to life and attack him. There was no doubt that Nathan's abuse tailed him into this universe, but did that mean that certain events were just destined to occur? There were just too many questions and little to no answers.

“I don't know what to do Max. I don't know how to help him. How am I even suppose to start a conversation near that topic?”, Warren moaned, his marred face buried deep into the palm of his hands. Max stared up at the ceiling pretending to think. She also had no idea of what to do, where to even start. “Call the cops?”, she suggested and cringed at how ridiculous it sounded to say that outloud. When Warren had first suggested calling the cops it sounded logical, but now that the people involved in the situation were made known, it was obvious that the help the police would bring would be little to none. “Max,” Warren said in disbelief, his hands drawing away from his face as he glanced at her with an incredulous look. Max tore her gaze away from the splotched white ceiling and looked over at Warren. His right eye was narrowed and on the verge of being declared shut due to the heavy swelling, but despite that, he managed to look serious. “Right, sorry. Mr. Prescott basically owns all of this town, why wouldn't he have control of the police force?”, Max dismissed.

“I suppose the only thing we can do is wait it out,” she followed up with a shrug. Warren's eyebrows sharply drew together, his annoyance evident to even the blind. He didn't want to sit around and do nothing as Nathan's torture went on while Max and him feigned ignorance. Nathan would continue to think that he's alone in a mental and physical battle. That no one knew or cared enough to find out and there was no salvation from drowning in a sea that kept pulling him under every time he reached the surface.

“Just for now,” Max reassured with a frown, not liking the idea herself. They might be the lifeguards on duty as Nathan drowns, but they were as helpful as a drunken designated driver.

 

–--------------

 

Warren separated his lips and observed his teeth reflecting off the dirty mirror. His eyes roamed over the crooked tooth belonging to the bottom row of other wise perfectly straight teeth, tongue going over it unconsciously as if expecting it to be fixed that way. He sighed when the tooth remained unchanged and drew his lips back over his teeth. His vision blurred out his bruised face as it sharply focused on the writing of “suck my dick” on the mirror. Underneath it was different hand writing in bright red reading “faggot”, which Warren presumed was a retort to the the statement above it.

His upper lip upturned to form a sneer and he pushed himself away from the sink. No matter how top rated a high school was, teenagers will never fail to prove that it doesn't matter how much money you put into the school, for the disgusting purposeful ignorance would always remain if not taught away.

Warren harshly blinked as he stepped out of the bright bathroom and into the pitch black hallway. He waited for his eyes to adjust before walking, afraid that he might trip over or bump into something or, most likely, someone. Last time he tried to navigate blindly, he crashed into a very drugged out Hayden who proceeded to tell Warren his life story. Come the next day, the other boy completely forgot about the encounter and although Warren knew he would, he was unable to walk away from Hayden as he went on mumbling gibberish and nodding along despite the sleep that threatened to take over. He spent nearly an hour silently agreeing with Hayden until the boy decided it was time to go to sleep right there and then. He laid down on the floor as he said something about spiders, and proceeded to knock out like a newborn baby who had more than enough time at the beach.

Warren shook his head at the memory and continued towards his room, but stood still at the sound of indie music seeping through his slightly ajar door. He felt his body tense up as he clearly recalled closing his door and leaving nothing on. Momentarily he wondered whether Zachary decided to pay him a visit and just as quickly laughed it off. He doubted Zachary would break into his room and play indie music as he waited for Warren to return. He wasn't sure whether he'd be able to take Zachary seriously or not in that situation. Warren shook his head and scoffed as he swung his door open, eyes focusing on Chloe who was sprawled out on his bed, boots tapping along to the beat on his comforter.

“I just washed those you know,” he went to say, but swallowed his words when he noticed a small white device in Chloe's hands. She glanced up at him with an innocence that Warren knew she was faking. “Chloe are you serious?”, he said as he rolled his eyes. There was nothing in the world that could contain the girl when she was curious. “Are _you_ serious? Nathan? Really?”, she shot back, springing up from the bed to a sitting position, the mockery obvious in her tone. Warren shushed her and hastily shut the door behind him. He turned to face her with a stern glare which looked more like a puppy trying to be intimidating. “Be quite Chloe. I don't want everyone to find out,” he whispered followed by a heavy sigh. “It's complicated.” Chloe rolled her eyes and plopped back onto the bed, the phone held in front of her face illuminating her features. “God, have you read over these messages? It all sounds hella gay to me,” she said with a slight smirk as she continued to read through the many messages.

Warren walked over to her and snatched his phone away from her hands. “Look there are things you don't know about and I wish I could tell you, I really do, but now is not the time. I'll explain everything one day, I promise,” he said somberly. Chloe's smirk fell away as she sat up again, this time more serious. “Sounds hella serious,” she mumbled with concern evident on her face. “Don't worry about it, alright. I can handle it,” he said confidently despite not feeling so. There was no way he would ever be able to “handle” something like this. Chloe nodded slowly and looked away from Warren. “You promise to tell me one day?”, she asked quietly as if afraid the stillness surrounding them would suddenly come to life and attack.

“I promise,” he said firmly. He knew she would find out about it either way eventually despite him telling her or not. To prevent the silence that began to grow between them, Chloe abruptly stood to her feet and off the bed. “What do you say we continue watching The Hobbit?”, she asked despite not waiting for an answer. She headed for the collection of DVD's Warren had beside his TV and began to search through them. “Sounds good,” Warren mumbled knowing that whatever he said wouldn't matter to the girl. Perhaps a movie night is exactly what he needed.

 

–-------------

 

_Warren: What if you have a super power that is so indiscreet you don't even realize you have it?_

 

_Sweet Angel: For example?_

 

_Warren: Like what if you had the super power to have animals instantly like you or dislike you, hence why there are animal people and people who get attacked every time an animal sees them._

 

_Sweet Angel: That would be the shittiest plot I've heard for a superhero movie_

 

_Sweet Angel: In a world where people have very bad super powers that they aren't even aware of, some people are loved by animals, and others have the ability to make animals attack them._

 

_Warren: I would watch that movie_

 

_Sweet Angel: I wouldn't even fucking doubt it_

 

_Warren: You would also watch it_

 

_Sweet Angel: Only because it sounds bad enough to be good_

 

_Warren: Aw I knew it_

 

_Sweet Angel: Shut the fuck up_

 


	12. Chapter 12

The night air was the only thing that truly helped Warren keep his frizzled nerves calm. It felt as relieving as breathing in that first breath of fresh air as you stepped out of a stuffy overcrowded room. His heart ceased its dull ache and his fingertips finally freed from the palm of his hands. It felt like he could finally breathe properly for the first time since the morning, where the sunlight seeped through the cracks of his shudders and hit his face long enough to stir him from sleep. His eyes fluttered open and immediately humming dullness striked him like lightning, overwhelming his senses as if he were drenched in gasoline and set on fire.

During days like this, the ones that he lacked any and all motivation to do anything at all, Warren was never able to feel right until the sun hide from sight and the moon rose high the sky, kindly sharing its space with even the farthest of stars visible to the eye.

His scrambled brain that suffered from an overbearing amount of thoughts moments ago was now silent. Warren could have sworn he heard (or would it be felt?) his brain sigh in relief. Tiredness flushed throughout his body like a tidelwave, his arms and legs aching as if he had worked hard all day, but only managed to go to class and nothing more. He wasn't even able to focus long enough to get any helpful notes for the upcoming biology test. He was certain he would fail considering he had no friends in that class that he could borrow notes to copy from. Warren went to sigh, but held it in as he heard the door behind him open. His body stilled and despite wanted to, he was unable to turn around and check who had just walked in.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Warren unconsciously relaxed as he recognized Nathan's voice. “Oh my god, this is totally romantic movie plot,” Warren said through a chuckle as he spun around to face Nathan. “I suppose it's meant to be,” Nathan surprisingly played along, a hint of a smile playing across his lips. “I swear, just like a cat,” Warren mutters to himself, but Nathan rolls his eyes indicating he heard what Warren said. “What are you doing up here?”, Nathan repeats as he nears the edge of the roof where Warren is at. “I'm just being emo, I suppose,” Warren responds. He watches as Nathan heaves himself up onto the thick border that runs along the edge of the roof, then swings his legs over and allows them to hang down as he settles ontop of the border. A hum of understanding escapes his lips and his hand reaches into his pocket to retrieve something. Warren narrows his eyes as Nathan slips his hand back out from his pocket with brown rolled up paper held between fingers.

“I suppose that's why you're here,” Warren mumbled, but no judgment could be found in tone. Nathan turns to face him as he places the joint between his lips, one hand diving back into his pocket in search for his lighter. He looks at Warren questioningly in an attempt to decipher the other boy's feelings towards the joint hanging down from inbetween his lips, but reminds himself he's not suppose to care what others think and tears his eyes away from Warren's face. “Do you want?”, he asks despite himself, the unconscious desire to know what Warren thought forcing the words around occupied lips. “Never tried it,” Warren says as he lays his head on folded arms.

Nathan finds his lighter and brings it out from within his stuffy pocket into the cold night air. He raises it up to be in front of the joint. The lighter flickers to life with the quick movement of his thumb and a small flame protrudes the darkness, casting an orange glow across Nathan's face. Warren found himself noticing the heavy bags underneath Nathan's blue eyes. It added years to the face of a boy barely any older than him.

Warren turned his face away as Nathan deeply inhaled, his head falling back in order to watch the stars in the sky. “My mother used to smoke it. She died of lung cancer,” Warren informed and fixed his gaze at the still darkness of the forest just slightly ahead. “Weed doesn't cause lung cancer,” Nathan was quick to defend, eyebrows drawn together as if worried Warren actually thought that. “I know, I don't favor being ignorant. Just cause I don't like it doesn't mean I don't know that it has caused zero deaths so far and the only bad thing about it is when people grow too attached to it. I know it doesn't cause lung cancer. My mom was a heavy smoker. Couldn't go a day without a minimum of five cigarettes and even then that wasn't her daily intake. She could have smoke an entire box gladly and it lead to her death,” he paused to shrug his shoulders, “I don't like anything associated to smoking, whether weed or cigarettes or whatever else. It just makes me sick to think about that habit of hers. I hate that she died because of something so stupid as smoking a stick filled with chemicals that served absolutely no purpose,” he finished and noticed Nathan putting out the joint from the corner of his eye.

“I'm sorry, that sucks,” Nathan muttered and brought his gaze down to look at his overly expensive shoes. The bud still hanging loosely between his fingers.“You don't have to stop,” Warren said as he looked over at Nathan, his chin digging into his forearm. “I know I'm an asshole, but it takes a whole 'nother level of asshole to continue smoking after that confession,” Nathan said. He contemplated letting the joint slip past his fingers that he barely held onto it anyways, but decided against it and tucked it back into his pocket. Warren chuckled beside him and stood up straight. He drew his arms away from the border, the palm of his hands scraping along the prickly concrete. “I was heading out either way, I'm dead tired.”

There was no way he could confess that the smell was nearly enough to bring him to tears, a heavy nostalgia hitting him like a truck traveling a hundred miles per hour. He tried to keep himself from crying by accusing her of being a shitty mother. What kind of mother smoked weed and cigarretes near her own kid anyways? Especially cigarettes, hadn't she heard of second hand smoking? But there was no way he could accuse her of anything as her gentle touches and sweet voice floated around in the back of his mind. It reminded him of the times she would always be there for him. Whether it was because he couldn't sleep or because he was sick, she would immediately be by his side to read him his favorite story or take his temperature. She wasn't a bad mother, just a human being that made bad decisions.

“I'm sorry if I brought up bad memories,” Nathan apologized as he observed Warren's face, lips drawn together tightly and eyes hazed as if he were somewhere else. “No, I'm fine. Honest,” no he wasn't, “don't worry about it,” but Nathan was worrying about it. Why did he always manage to make everyone feel like shit? Why was he destined to become like his father? “No your fucking not,” said Nathan loudly. He winced as he realized that his thoughts slipped past his lips, an accusation that he could not conceal as he began to panic. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to ignore the eyes he felt burning a hole into the side of his face. “Fuck, just don't leave please. I'm sorry I fuck up all the time and I talk to much and act without thinking, but I can't fucking control it and I fucked up again. Stay and cry or talk or don't or both. I don't care, just don't leave. Please, I want to be different,” Nathan spilled and whether he regretted it now or not, didn't matter. He couldn't take it back, it was said and heard and there wasn't a way in existence that he could take his words back.

“Okay,” he heard Warren whisper, the acceptance melting Nathan's anxiety away, his eyes fluttering open as his muscles involuntary relaxed. “Okay,” was repeated and Nathan watched as Warren sat beside him on the border from the corner of his eye. The words Nathan wanted to say seemingly burned his tongue to a crisp giving the illusion that he'd be unable to say them aloud. He opened his mouth, trying to force the words out, but found himself closing it just as quickly. Why was he so useless? There was no way he'd ever change, not if he wasn't even able to thank Warren for being so selfless.

 

–-------------

 

_Blue's Clues: Yo! We r hangin on saturday. You me Max (means Kate 2) Rachel n a shit load of drinks w/ bonfireeee. What ya say???_

 

_Pet Monkey #2: Sounds fun. I'll be there._

 

_Blue's Clues: u can even bring a certain angel_

 

_Pet Monkey #2: Hahaha, very, super funny._

 

_Blue's Clues: i was for real_

 

_Pet Monkey #2: That would be weird, wouldn't it? He doesn't even know you guys and he's hard to understand. Something will go wrong, I am a hundred percent sure on that._

 

_Blue's Clues: we just chillin?? i don't get it wat will go rong?_

 

_Pet Monkey #2: Maybe another time._

 

_Blue's Clues: whateve loser ur loss_

 

_Pet Monkey #2: I wish I could roll my eyes over text._

 

_Blue's Clues: LOL whateve u no i right_

 

_Pet Monkey #2: Texting with you is like texting with a five year old._

 

_Blue's Clues: i wish i could flick u of by text_

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world is slowly wrapping itself in a cloth made of pure shit. Not a surprise really, but I wish you all to be careful and wish the best to everyone injured in the terroristes attacks in France as well as the families and friends of the ones who sadly were not as lucky. 
> 
> Im posting the last chapter ive written up and it will probably be awhile until I post more chapters.

Max rolled on to her side and smiled as her eyes roamed over the form of her bed mate. Her fingers seemingly reached over on their own accord and stroked through light brown hair, the color lighter under the rays of the sun. Kate mumbled something incoherent and Max's smile grew wider, teeth visible but unseen to the girl blindly swatting her hand away. “Morning,” Max greeted and Kate moaned. She tugged the covers up and over her head in a poor attempt to shield herself from the world that was doing its best to wake her. Morning person wasn't a word you would use in a description of Kate, in fact, mornings were her worst enemies. At least she claimed so one bright day as the sun rose in the sky and Max forgot the close the blinds again. Max would never admit she purposefully left them open only to hear Kate curse the sun for choosing to rise.

“You left the blinds open again, Max,” she said, but her words came out muffled by the covers she hid under. “Ah, yeah. Sorry about that,” Max apologized, but the smile remained proudly in place. “You're the worst,” Kate grunted as she wrapped the covers around her tighter. She shuffled around for a bit until she stopped completely. Max assumed she was going back to sleep and rolled onto her back, arms reaching forward. She grunted at the effort, but sighed at the feeling of her muscles stretching and her bones cracking from hours of inactivity. A shrill _beep beep_ cut through the morning silence and Max retrieved her phone from its place on the night table.

 

_Chloe: Bon_

 

Max drew her eyebrows together as she read the text, but her phone sounded again and she read the newly received text in hopes of clarity.

 

_Chloe: Bon_

 

Max rolled her eyes, assuming Chloe was just bored, but as she went to set her phone back down on the night table, the phone announced another text message received.

 

_Chloe: FIRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE!! And ur invited no no's allowed only yes n yes. Kate can come with_

 

Kate muttered something barely audible as she shifted on the bed, but Max caught the words “who” and “want”. “Chloe inviting us to a bonfire,” Max answered what she assumed to be a question about who it was and what they wanted. With a moan of agony, Kate tossed the covers away from her face and upper body. She gave in to consciousness and rubbed her eyes as she groggily tried to wake herself mentally. Max just chuckled at the sight of her tousled hair. “When is it?” Max shrugged and looked back at the phone.

 

 _When is it?_ \- she sent and the response was almost immediate. _Chloe: Sa tur day._

 

“Saturday,” she said as Kate yawned loudly. “Sounds like fun,” she muttered as her eyes fluttered close again. “Oh common, you were just waking up,” Max said with a nudge to Kate's shoulder. “Yeah, but I just figured out I'm still tired.” Max shook her head and stood up from the bed. “You have class in an hour,” she countered, but Kate hummed as if she knew exactly when her class started. “I get ready quickly,” she muttered. Max rolled her eyes and began to dress herself. “Don't say I didn't try to wake you.”

 

–-----------

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Warren saw a familiar red jacket pass by, but refrained from looking in that direction. Instead he focused his attention on Rachel who was eagerly telling a story about a squirrel she found in her room. It wasn't hard to shift his attention on her. With her voice that fluttered through the air and appealed to any that heard to the way she would emphasize certain words just right, it was easy to fall victim to Rachel's stories. No matter how ridiculous or exaggerated they were. She even made it easy to ignore Chloe and Max who were staring at Warren like they wanted to see into his soul. “Then I tried to pet him, but the paintbrushes beside me fell and scared the crap out of the poor fellow,” her words drawled on and Warren found himself in a trance, deeply absorbed into the story. She had a way to her that was different and almost unrealistic. He always felt calm around her and Warren couldn't explain it even if he wanted to, but he beat his life savings that in another world, he had a mad crush on her.

However, adoration and love are two distinct things that regularly get mixed up. He wasn't sure he could ever see himself liking her that way. Despite the soft tone she spoke in when she knew you were feeling down and her friendly caresses that instantly made you feel better, she wasn't someone he would see himself living out his days with. Chilly air blew threw the leaves of the tree near them and in return the leaves singed in sinc, the harmony natural created background music. The same wind bit at their faces and caused the group to shiver, but Warren loved the sensation of being outside on a cold day. He sighed in contentment as he closely followed along with Rachel's story.

The tranquil air shattered to pieces as someone came to a stop beside Warren. Rachel stopped telling her story and all eyes turned to the body hovering over their usual table. Warren didn't want to look knowing that the person was there for him, but slowly, he too turned his head to the side. He tried to keep the shock from showing on his face as he saw Logan standing there looking down at him, but it wasn't the fact that Logan was there that threw him off. It was his hunched shoulders and darting eyes that showed discomfort, his usual confidence lacking. The walls built around the boy that made him appear gruff and unbreakable were seemingly torn down leaving a small uncertain boy in place. “Could I talk to you for a second?”, he asked, but refused to met eyes with Warren for longer than a second. “Sure,” Warren muttered and cursed his kindness as he rose to his feet. He ignored the stares from his friends as he followed behind Logan as distantly as possible. It was ridiculous, but he couldn't help but feel like he was being willingly lead to his death. There was no doubt about it, at least in Warren's scrambling mind. What else would Logan want with him? To apologize? Warren bit hard into lip to keep himself from laughing and prevent making his death quicker.

Logan stopped near the Swimming pool entrance and spun around to face Warren. “I'm sorry.” Warren did a double take, his mouth falling wide open. “I'm sorry?”, Warren asked and instantly realized his mistake as Logan narrowed his eyes. “No, I mean that in a like, excuse me, Did I hear you right? Kinda way. I mean, wait, nevermind, just...I don't even know what to say right now,” Warren babbled. A hint of a smile became visible on Logan's face, but Warren choose to ignore it for the sake of his sanity. What was it with people who he thought of as being nothing more than assholes becoming actual human beings suddenly? “I didn't expect you to. I just wanted you to know that. I let the anger get the best of me and I guess Zachary as well as me deserved a punch to the face that day,” Logan explained. “It's,uh, cool. Thanks for apologizing,” Warren awkwardly said as he scratched the back of his neck.

Logan raised a fist at Warren and Warren did his best not to flinch. “We cool?”, he asked. Warren soon realized he was asking for a fist bump and quickly rose his fist to met Logan's awaiting one. “Yeah, we're cool,” Warren said as he continued to try and process what just happened. Even as Logan began to walk away and he headed back to his friends, Warren was unable to believe that he just fist bumped the biggest bully in the school.

“What did Logan want?” He was hounded on instantly. “He apologized,” Warren muttered, eyebrows drawn together to show his confusion. The shock he felt spread through his table of friends instantly. “Logan, apologized?”, Chloe repeated slowly as if making sure she didn't misunderstand. “Yeah,” he chuckled and a smile grew on Max's face. “There's something about you,” she referenced and Warren gently nudged her with his elbow. “Shut up,” he told her.

 

–--------------------

 

_Warren: Did you know that mutts have less chance of inheriting diseases than purebreds?_

 

_Sweet Angel: Bullshit_

 

 _Warren:_ [ _http://www.petmd.com/blogs/dailyvet/2009/August/19-4571_ ](http://www.petmd.com/blogs/dailyvet/2009/August/19-4571)

 

 _Warren:_ [ _https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCv10_WvGxo_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCv10_WvGxo)

 

 _Warren:_ _http://healthypets.mercola.com/sites/healthypets/archive/2013/07/05/pet-genetic-_ [ _disorders.aspx_ ](http://healthypets.mercola.com/sites/healthypets/archive/2013/07/05/pet-genetic-disorders.aspx)

 

_Sweet Angel: Okay, I get it. Thanks for teaching me this useless fact._

 

_Warren: I'm only here to serve._

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Rachel broke out into loud laughter as Chloe tossed a used rolled up napkin at her. Innocently. It bounced off her forehead and landed on her lap. “Hey, eyes on the road,” Rachel scolded jokingly and Chloe chuckled despite herself. “I don't hear anyone else complaining,” she countered and glanced up at the rear-view mirror. Max and Kate were talking about the difference between glossy and regular paintings while Warren was looking down at his phone. “I told you to invite him,” she said and Warren snapped his head up, eyes wide at what Chloe had just said. “Who's he?”, Rachel asked with genuine curiosity. Max glanced at Warren questioningly, but he choose to ignore her. “No one, just Chloe being dumb,” Warren said with a shrug, then looked back down at his phone. “You know you can tell us anything, right Warren?”, Kate spoke up from beside Max, her voice soft and eyes caring. God damn it all to hell, he thought to himself.

“It's not important, honest. And like I told you Chloe, I can't do that. It would be mega weird and it's not even like that,” he muttered, locking his phone and trying to avoid all eyes focused on him. Chloe shrugged exaggeratedly before replying with “Whatever ya say,” and turned up the radio. "Zhu" blasted through the speakers as she rose the volume, the vibrations shooting up Warren's arm as he placed his elbow on the car door. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand, the music now rattling his teeth with the heavy bass. Past the window laid nothing but pure darkness. They already reached the countryside which lacked streetlamps to light the way. The only thing visible was the natural lights in the sky that greedily claimed all the attention. Simply, they refused to light anything else beside themselves.

Warren loved Chloe, but sometimes she was too much for him to handle. He knew that she only meant well, but as his Spanish teacher used to say “peor la cura que la enfermedad”**. “She knows?”, Max whispered near his ear, her hot breath tickling his jaw. He turned away from the window to face her. Either way, there was nothing to look at outside. “She went through my phone again,” he responded. Max shook her head and frowned deeply as her eyes darted over to the dancing driver. “I'm sorry,” she says over the music, leaning in closely for him to be able to hear her. Warren shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn't matter,” he dismisses her concern. He actually didn't mind Chloe knowing, just preferred that she actually had the ability to keep her mouth shut every once and awhile, but he knew Chloe didn't work that way. You either got the whole package or nothing. It's his own fault for choosing her as one of his best friends. He should have known better, he mentally scolds himself.

Chloe pulls off the smooth road and introduces them to a rocky path, her truck rattling as it went along the uneven ground. The people aboard swayed as the wheels struggled over ground not made for driving on, like buoys in the middle of the sea at the mercy of the tide. Warren momentarily wondered how Chloe was able to navigate so expertly around at night considering her headlights barely light five feet ahead. He was willing to bet it had a lot to do with her father, but he always strayed from questions that might lead to that subject. Those questions always seemed to remain unanswered whether he asked them or not. Her lips would draw together tightly as she completely changed the subject. He believes he preferred it that way anyways, handling heavy conversations wasn't exactly his forte.

“We're here,” Chloe sang as she slightly lowered the music, but the song still blasted loud enough to have to strain in order to hear her. She put her car in parking and left the ignition running. Its headlights making the area just ahead visible enough to work. She flung her door open, its years of physical use obvious in its rusty whine and with much enthusiasm, she leaped out of her truck, ordering for everyone else to do the same. Warren chuckled as he followed the ecstatic blue-haired girl to the back of the truck in which was filled with firewood.

Rachel and Kate busied themselves prepping the spacious area just ahead. With fat twigs they began to dig a circular shallow pit in the ground, wide enough to serve well for the size of the bonfire they knew Chloe wanted. They started with sticks touching and ran along in different directions, Kate in charge of the left while Rachel worked the right. When they met again, they grimaced at what was suppose to be their circle, but came out a wonky oval. With a shrug from Rachel and a sheepish smirk from Kate, they joined Max who was unloading the stones to run along the created pit.

Kate chuckled at Max who struggled with the bag of heavy stones they managed to squeeze into the backseat. “Hold on, love,” Kate said as she took hold of one side of the bag, while Rachel took another. At a count of three, they lifted simultaneously and carried the bag, with grunts of effort, near the newly made pit. They dropped the bag, letting it crash down onto the dirt beneath which disrupted it from it's stillness. Rising up, it surrounding the three of them causing them to them to cough into the palm of their hands.  “Maybe next time, we set it down gently,” Rachel said through a cough, her hand waving at the dust dancing around her as the other two nodded in agreement.

“Set it up guys, we're almost done unloading,” Chloe ordered as she tossed the wood she carried on her shoulders onto the building pile near the pit. It clattered loudly as it settled in among the rest. The process repeated as Warren came up behind her with more wood perched on his shoulders. “Yes sir!”, teased Rachel with a mock salute and laughed when Chloe flipped her the bird. Warren chuckled at the blue-haired girl, but instantly regretted it when she turned her attention to him, playful glare sternly in place. He raised his hands in mock of a white flag, but it did little to detain the girl that flung herself at him. She wrapped an arm tightly around his neck and Warren pushed at her side in a pity worthy attempt to put distance between them. “Chloe!”, he scolded as she rubbed a fist against the top of his head, but it came out more like a burst of laughter than anything.

Max rolled her eyes and reached into the plastic bag, hands grasping edgy stone, and pulling it out without much effort. She walked over to the shallow oval dug into the dirt and placed the stone in her hands within. Rachel soon grew tired of the scene and joined Max in lining the pit with stones. Kate giggled once before heading towards the full plastic bag as well, the work going by much faster with six able hands instead of two.

 

* * *

 

Red and orange spluttered and spat as the mashed colors fought a heated battle. The brightness of the fire cast a glow that allowed them to see without the aid of Chloe's truck, in which was currently shut off, visible only was the bumper. The rest completely swallowed by the darkness surrounding them. Chill techno oozed out from Warren's Bluetooth speaker as everyone crowded around the fire. They rubbed their hands for warmth as they visibly exhaled with laughter. “That was an accident,” muttered Rachel in slight embarrassment. “Yeah, if you call mixing two liquids your chemistry teacher specifically told you not to mix together an accident,” Chloe said with a roll of her eyes. Max's smile widened, her mouth falling open in a silent laugh. Rachel shoved Chloe, causing the blue-haired girl to lose her balance. Her arms shot out, beer bottle barely being held by loose fingers as she tried to regain her balance and refrain from falling off the log she was sat on. Warren placed a hand on her back as he helped her regain stability.

When she found herself safely back on her seat, Chloe broke into unattractive cackles, her beer bottle cradled against her chest like a newborn baby. Warren laughed along despite himself, which broke some kind of silent barrier formed when Chloe nearly fell backwards. The contagious laughter spread like a disease, hands brought over stomach's as if it might split open, and their guts spill out in gooey red blobs.

As the laughter died down from a chortle to a chuckle, Kate leaned her head of Max's shoulder, her hand tracing down her arm until it found her hand. Their fingers interlaced as both tried to focuse their teary eyes on their interlaced hands. Kate's head bopped slightly on Max's shoulder as she tried to calm herself. “I think I'm drunk,” mumbled Kate into Max's neck and something seemingly electric ran through Max's body, immobilizing her, and leaving her speechless.

She felt sick all of a sudden, the memories of an alternative universe, one in which grew further into the recess of her mind the longer she refrained from using her powers, flooded into her mind like a tidal wave. Although it wasn't her who drugged Kate, she felt suddenly guilty as if the girl leaning into her side because she was intoxicated was her fault. Her grip on Kate's hand tightened but her girlfriend took no note of it, the action most likely mistaken for affection.

Max forced herself to relax, mentally reminding herself that in this universe, Nathan was different, he had a friend and that made all the difference in the world. He wouldn't relay in Mr. Jefferson because he already had someone to confine in. It wouldn't happen again, it wouldn't happen again, it wouldn't happen again, Max mentally chanted like a mantra that if repeated just enough times, would become reality. This time, things would be different.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time everyone stumbled towards the car, the hour was unknown to everyone. The enormous fire they built died down to a soft shimmer, which was put out with a bucket of cold water. It hissed as it died down completely, a line of smoke rising from the ashes of the burnt wood. The smell grown familiar by the night's end.

Slamming the back door of the trunk, Chloe hopped into the front seat. She waited until she heard Max toss the plastic bag, which now was filled with empty bottles instead of stones, into the back of the truck to start the ignition. She set the truck in drive once Max hopped into the backseat, squeezing in beside Warren. The rising smoke from ashes and aligned logs being the only evidence left behind from their night out.

Chloe slowly eased the car out of the forest avoiding thick trees and scurrying wild life. The truck rocked as it did before, uneven ground made from varying rocks being the cause. Warren tried his best not to feel sick at the swaying, but he found himself commanding Chloe to stop, the vomit in his mouth barely before he managed to lean over Kate's lap and open the door. He had a bit much to drink – if five beers could be called a bit much, but he always was and will continue to be a light weight. Vaguely, he managed to make sense of what Chloe was saying long enough to conceive the blue-haired girl was teasing him. He settled for ignoring her as he felt Kate's gentle hands patting his back supportingly. It helped him feel better about his inability to hold his alcohol whatsoever. Mentally, he wrote himself a reminder to thank her properly when sober, but he doubted he would remember anything tomorrow. Even less likely was he to remember a mental note of any kind.

Kate handed him a soft towel that smelled of lilies. He used it to wipe at his mouth once he felt he about finished emptying his stomach. Glancing down at the pond of vomit he made, he suddenly pitied the poor forest in which held no quarrel with him. What had it done to deserve this? With Kate's help, he settled back into his seat feeling a bit more sober than before. His stomach settled down and gone was the sick sensation he felt moments ago. Luckily for everyone, it stayed that way even as Chloe eased her foot of the brake, setting them into rocky motion once again.

Eventually, they had reached the road that lead back to their hick town and Chloe wasted no time in hitting the acceleration, the lack of speed an irritating itch the longer she went without it. She let out a whoop of excitement as her rusty truck tried to keep up with her, groaning with exertion as its speed increased to eighty. It was the best she knew it could do despite the road that remained empty for miles. She settled for traveling at that speed - despite her desire to go faster – and leaned back into her musky seat. The truck creaked with every piece of patched up road it was forced over, barely muted by the loud music playing inside, but Chloe choose to ignore it by raising the volume of “RITUAL”.

She glanced over at Rachel and chuckled as the other girl fought to keep herself awake. Her eyes falling shut only to be snapped wide open – repeat and repeat. A visible internal battle as she tried her best to fend off unwanted unconsciousness, but as always, a very short lived battle for Rachel was weak to long nights combined with drinking. Chloe glanced back at the road, her heart rising up to her throat at what was just up ahead. She slammed her brakes, the sudden heavy reduction of speed and shrill screeching startling everyone from slumber. Chloe gripped her steering wheel tightly, knuckles a pale white, and found herself unable to do anything.

Before she could even think to do it, Max rose her hand on pure instinct as the truck grew closer to the fear stricken deer, but nothing happened. No bright distorted colors as she watched the world reverse. No headache that soon followed the reverse. The truck continued going and the deer wasn't moving. Soon realizing she could do nothing, she placed her hand on the seat in front of her, and closed her eyes tightly just as the impact shook the truck with such force, her teeth rattled as her face slammed into the back of the passenger's headrest. A nauseating pop rang out as her shoulder dislocated from locking her outstretched arm, but drugged with the adrenaline pumping through her veins, it was easy to ignore the pain she would undoubtedly feel later.

After the sound of shattering glass and groaning metal, the shrill screeching of wheels desperately scrapping against road continue for what felt like a long minute. Utter and absolute silence soon followed. Max allows her eyes to open when she feels safe to do so. She moves away from the headrest and glances to the side. It takes her a minute to adjust her blurry vision, but once she does, her eyes sharply focuse on Warren leaning over himself, head resting on the storage compartment between the two front seats. In panic, she reaches over and shakes him, but there is no response. Her gaze is drawn away from Warren and over to Kate who is looking at Max with wide confused eyes, probably still trying to register what had just happened.

“Kate,” her voice is hoarse, like if it had been years since she last spoke. “You're mom – she's a nurse, right?”, she asked as calmly as she could managed. Kate nodded meekly in response. “Is he okay? Is he,” a pause, “alive?”. Kate raised trembling fingers towards Warren's neck, a nod following shortly after, “He's alive,” she croaked, tears forming in her eyes.

Whether due to relief or fear, Max wasn't sure, all she knew for sure at the moment was that they had to get out of the truck. Max turned her attention towards Chloe, her heart seemingly dropping down to the pit of her stomach at what was barely visible of the blue-haired girl. The buck roughly four hundred pounds smashed into the front of the truck, the windshield glass completely shattered and the metal from the roof bent in towards Chloe and Rachel. Max closed her eyes tightly at the sight of a heavy flow of blood. Whether from the deer or the two girls up front, she wasn't curious to find out, but judging from the way the metal was bent, so far and deeply in that Chloe and Rachel were barely visible, she assumed the blood belonged to them. “Fuck”, she choked out, a lump forming in her throat as her eyes watered. She raised a hand and sobbed a curse when nothing happened.

She clenched her teeth tightly, stiffened fingers shaking from exertion. “Fuck!”, she shouted and cried harder as she heard Kate gasp through a sob. “Do something Max, god dammit!”, but no matter how loud she shouted, no matter how much she cried and begged, the scene remained the same, warren hunched over, Kate struggling to breath through her sobs, Rachel and Chloe, everything remained the absolute fucking same.

 

* * *

 

 

_Sweet Angel: Why the fuck do people walk so slow all the time?_

 

_Sweet Angel: Oh and the fucking worse, when they are walking fucking slow with someone else_

 

_Sweet Angel: So now not only one slow fuck, but watch the fuck out there's another one_

 

_Sweet Angel: Taking up the whole side walk like the shits they are_

 

_Sweet Angel: Warren_

 

_Sweet Angel: Warren?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “peor la cura que la enfermedad”** - A cuban saying that when roughly translated means "worse the cure than the sickness". It typically is used when someone tries to help, but ends up making the situation worse than before. 
> 
> It took me about a month to write this chapter because I'm a lazy peice of shit.


	15. Chapter 15

Following a curt groan, Warren cracked an eye open. Lack of adjustmentment to the blaring white surrounding forced him to snap his eye shut, the introsive color making his eye burn from barely a second glance. His eyesbrows drew together in mourning for his surfering eye which released involuntary tears that slid down his cheek. In the distance, or what seemed like it, his name was being said, or more like shouted, but he had to strain in order to know for sure it was his name and not just distorted gibberish. It made him wonder where he was, where he had awoken, who was yelling his name, and what had even happened, but when he tried to open his eyes, the burning sensation doubled and he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut with a wince. The shouting of his name became more persitant and annoying by the second and along with it came a touch cold enough to burn agaisnt his neck.

The sudden touch startled him, but his body felt heavy and languid, simply the thought of moving seemed impossible and foreign. Warren opened his mouth and tried to speak, to say anything, anything at all to stop the yelling, the unpleasant coldness agaisnt his neck, and maybe even get someone or something (maybe he had been abducted by aliens) to tone the brightness down a notch. Despite his desert dry throat, he managed to croak the words, "sto-op," chopped and mauled enough to make even himself wonder whether it came from him or someone else.

Silence followed and Warren mentally sighed in relief. At least the yelling had stopped, he thought, but scolded himself for wishful thinking as it started up again. "Yes, yes he's awake, he just spoke to me!", what sounded like gibberish moments ago became clearer and easier to understand despite his pounding head. Muscles that he wasn't even aware were tensed up relaxed once he reconized the voice. It caused a sudden nolstagia to hit him hard, fleeting smells and sounds teasing him and making him long for a time and place that he no longer existed in. All he wanted to do at the moment was jump up and hold on tightly to the person so close, yet figuratively so far away. "Da-", was the only other thing he managed to croak past his scraggy throat that begged for water.

"Warren, yes. I'm here," He heard his father frantically breathe out from beside him. It scared Warren more than anything to hear his father sound afraid because nothing scared his father. He hadn't heard that undertone of fear since his mother told him the dreadful news of her, at the moment recently, identified cancer. That meant that something must have happened to Warren, something bad. He tried to ignore the gnawing fear and pushed away questions he knew he could not voice. Instead, Warren found enough strenth to lift his arm up long enough to point to his eyes. "Brigh''," he tried his best to announce his inability to open his eyes. "Ah, give me a second," his father responded. No longer than a minute later, Warren felt something cold and solid slid across his checks. When something lightly fell into place on the bridge of his nose, Warren was sure his dad had placed sunglasses on him. Warren suddenly wanted to chuckle, a sudden lightness tickling his stomache, but to release it would hurt to much. Instead, he settled for smiling in the direction of his father's voice, most likely awkward and too full a smile, but he knew his father would appreciate the gesture at the moment.

Delicately at first, he fluttered his eyes open half way. The light lessened by the sunglasses made it easier to keep them open. He no longer felt the stinging burn he felt before, but a dull buzz that served to irritate more than hurt. The room remained a blaring white, but with the sunglasses became a managable orange hue that allowed him to observe his surroundings. The first thing he was met with was the lights horrizontal to where he laid. He glanced down at his body, a plain sheet that smelled drenched in cleaning products was delicately placed on top of him. The folded blanket reached only up to his chest, his arms laid still beside his body.

When he caught sight of something metal attached to his fingers and a continous beeping sound suddenly became blaringly obvious, the connection was made. He turned to his father, but the quickness in which he did so caused a wave of dizziness. Something slick and hot rose to his throat, but he forced it down. The last thing he wanted to do was throw up all over himself, especially in front of his dad who already had enough to worry about. “The doctor is heading over soon,” his dad announced, the tone sad and worried. Warren swallowed harshly at the sound of his voice, but his father's face made the situation no better. There his father sat on a sofa chair, a descarded blanket to his side. Bags sat obvious beneath realived eyes, hands gripping each other tightly as a forced smile sat on his face. He wondered how long it had been since his father had been sat there, rushed from home when peaceful slumber turned into chaostrophic reality with just one phone call. _Your son has been in an accident._

Warren strectched a hand out to his father, which was taken quickly inbetween cold hands. “You scared the shit out of me,” his father broke down at the contact and sobbed into their hands. “Sorry,” Warren croaked, tears barely held back as he watched his father fall apart. He hadn't meant to scare his dad this badly, he never meant to scare him this way at all. It had been a long time since he's seen his father bawl at the mercy of the unknown, at the possibility of something he loves be so swiftly taken away, and there was nothing Warren could do to prevent the tears that came with such a simple yet devastating thought. He had almost died and left his father completely alone. He wasn't exactly sure of what had happened. All he was able to remember was the harsh shadow of something just beyond the headlights of Chloe's truck. Loud bass thumbed as Warren squinted at the shadow he swore was moving, but Chloe kept driving which must have meant Warren was just seeing things.

In a split second, as Chloe kept driving and headlights suddenly brought the body of a full grown elk into plain view, it became obvious Warren wasn't just seeing things. Chloe slammed the brakes, but the elk was too close and Chloe had been driving too fast. He clearly recalls the scretching of burning wheels and nothing after that.

“Warren Graham?”, he heard someone call his name and turned, careful to avoid making his vision swarm, to face a bearded man in his late forties. “That's him yes,” his father answered for him, which Warren was grateful for. The man glanced up from a clipboard that more than likely held information about Warren and furrowed his brows at the scene before him. His father managed to surpress a chuckle, but Warren couldn't help himself as he let out a raspy giggle. The regret was instant when it started a coughing fit, lungs compressed and aching ribs that made it hard to breathe. His father shot up from his chair, helping Warren sit up, and patting his back gently. “He should drink some water,” the doctor recommended and with the pen in his hand pointed towards the water bottle beside Warren's hospital bed.

His father nodded curtly and patiently waited for Warren to catch his breathe again. Reaching over, his dad grabbed the luke warm bottle and uncapped it. Slowly, Warren swallowed the water once the bottle was pressed agaisnt his lips. He grimaced at the warm water gliding down his throat, making it feel less dry, but the temperature was a small irk. He favored cold water, but he supposed beggers couldn't be choosers. «Your son is going fine. He only suffered a mild concussion, and besides the hangover he should be suffering from currently, is about ready to walk out of here,» the doctor boredly droned, apperantly dealing with enough of these cases to grow tired of repeating himself. His father nodded at the doctor and turned his attention back to Warren. Warren already knew what was coming before his father even opened his mouth. The shift of facial expression, from worried to anger, was a dead give away.

Patiently, his father waited as the doctor disconnected the heart monitor. The gruff man turned off the boisterous machine and removed the metal finger sensor. Warren unconciously flexed his finger once it was free. "Have a good day," the doctor said unenthused as he left the room and closed the door behind him. Warren found himself wishing the doctor stayed longer when what he was dreading began. "What the hell were you thinking?", his father whispered harshly, desperately trying to keep his voice down, but too angry to even realize it was more of a shout than a whisper. Warren winced and grabbed his head with his hands, gently rubbing his temples. "Please dad, later," he begged, but his father scoffed. "Oh no, right now. You deserve it for the heartattack you caused me," he said even louder than before and Warren groaned in protest, "Please I'll do anything," he tried once again, but this time he successfully managed to gain his father's attention.

"Okay, you clean the house for an entire week, weekend included," his father (oh so generously) offered, a smug smirk following the bargain. "Daaad," Warren whined. "You either agree or I keep shouting," his father pressed. Sighing softly, Warren agreed agaisnt his will to clean the house for an entire week. "Good. Oh and your grounded for that entire week as well," his dad added, smirk growing in size. "Dad, I'm sixteen," Warren argued weakly. "Hm, last time I checked that's not legally an adult. Oh, too bad. Guess that means I can ground you," his father shot back. Being left with nothing to argue with, Warren remained grudgingly silent. There was no point in arguing with his father, Warren always ended up doing what he wanted either way.

Knowing he won the discussion, his father patted Warren's head lovingly before beginning to gather their things. There wasn't much but a jacket strewn on top of the sofa chair, one of Warren's old jansport backpack his father must have brought clothes in, and the things Warren came to the hospital with. That included his clothes and cellphone, which was placed inside a plastic bag. His father gathered everything on the couch and headed for the door. "I'm going to check you out, I'll be back in a second," and with that his father was gone and Warren was left alone with his pounding head.

It took him a moment of silence for everything to truly sink in. He had been in an accident and he had survived, but he wasn't alone when it happened. There was Chloe, Rachel, Kate, and Max. He was okay, despite a raging hangover, but were they? Warren's pulsed raced as he reached for the plastic bag that held his cellphone. It must have been a pretty bad crash considering how fast Chloe was going. His hands felt sweaty as he reached in and pulled the device out. Turning it on, he bracing himself for whatever he was about to face.

_17 unread text messages_

Majority seemed to be from Nathan, but he could handle that later. For now, he had to know that everyone was okay.

_2 unread from Max earlier today_

_Max: Warren, they just released me from the hospital._

_Max: Call me whenever you get the chance._

Warren swallowed some water from the bottle on the night table and dialed Max's number. It rung twice before the phone was picked up. "Hello?", was said in a rush and out of breath as if she had been running before answering. "Max, hey. I just woke up and I'm about to be released from the hospital, are you – are you okay?", he asked hesitantly, afraid to know the answer if she wasn't. "Yeah, yeah – I'm fine," but it came out awkward and as if she wanted to follow it up with something, but didn't. Warren patiently waited and eventually she continued talking. "I – uh. Fuck. Chloe she, she isn't," Max left it off there, she hoped giving it time would make Warren understand what she was trying to relay, but to no avail. "What? What happened?", Warren asked. He heard Max sigh through the phone before she went to say, "Please Warren. Don't make me say it," and with that said, it hit Warren like a brick smashing into the side of his head. He felt his heart drop down into his stomach and suddenly he felt ill. Warren ran towards the bathroom, tossing the door open, and kneeling in front of the toilet just in time to empty his stomache into the bowl. He gripped the edge tightly with one hand and held the phone away from his face with the other. He hoped Max couldn't hear him that way, but he knew that was only wishful thinking. Chunks of half digested food and liquid hurled out from his mouth, floating down to the bottom of the toilet, and forming a coat of yellow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grimaced at the taste that remained in his mouth.

"Warren!", he heard Max called out worriedly and placed the phone back against his ear. "Y-yes, sorry. I'm h-here," he managed to say through a stutter. He heard shuffling on her side of the line, but didn't have the energy to question it. "Are the others?", he refused to continue the sentence, he knew Max would understand either way. " Rachel ", she answered simply, her voice more even than Warren expected it to be relaying this kind of information. Warren felt sick again, but forced the vomit that rushed up from his stomach back down his throat. "Fuck," was all he could say. He wiped the forming sweat off his forehead and stood despite his wobbly legs and swarming vision. "I know," her tone remained collected. There was something off, but Warren decided it wasn't the right time to ask her about it.

"Warren, I can't talk right now, just – stay safe, please," Emotion finally seeped into Max's voice again and Warren felt like he was missing something. "Okay," he said simply, but Max already hung up. The phone suggested calling back or sending a text before it closed the call completely. Warren made his way back and sat down on the edge of the bed trying to process everything he had just been told. Chloe and Rachel were dead, but how could that be? Rachel and Chloe were the ones that were gonna make it big in life no matter what. Chloe was suppose to get away from this «hick» town and send post cards with things like « look where I'm at losers ». Rachel, she was meant to be the best actor, to work in the biggest and best upcoming films. They were meant to go far and do great things, not – not to die in a small town they wanted nothing to do with.

Warren rubbed a hand across his face, a desire to scream at the top of his lungs sat heavy on his mind, but he pushed it down and entertained himself with his phone. He still had fifteen unread messages from Nathan that needed to be read through. It was his best bet to keep himself from the urge to dial Max's number again and demand more details. To keep himself from asking quetions he knew she had no answers to nor had the desire to answer.

_A day ago_

_Sweet Angel: Why the fuck do people walk so slow all the time?_

_Sweet Angel: Oh and the fucking worse, when they are walking fucking slow with someone else_

_Sweet Angel: So now not only one slow fuck, but watch the fuck out there's another one_

_Sweet Angel: Taking up the whole side walk like the shits they are_

Warren smiled weakly, but couldn't manage a chuckle despite the desire to do so.

_Sweet Angel: Warren_

_Sweet Angel: Warren?_

_Today_

_Sweet Angel: Holy shit Warren_

_Sweet Angel: Are you okay?_

_Sweet Angel: I heard about what happen_

_Sweet Angel: Caulfied says she doesn't know about your condition_

_Sweet Angel: You dumbass_

_Sweet Angel: Call me when you read this_

_Sweet Angel: I'm serious_

_Sweet Angel: I know whether you read my messages or not_

_Sweet Angel: I hope you didn't jinx yourself and are in a fucking coma or something_

Warren feels some of the heaviness in his heart lift. It felt nice to know Nathan cared about whether Warren was okay or not. It hasn't been the easiest dealing with Nathan, but if Nathan had text him so many times based upon his well being, they had to be moving in the right direction.

_Warren: Yo_

Warren wasn't too sure of what to text him. It felt awkward replying to Nathan when he was worried about Warren and not the other way around. There had been that time with Logan, but that wasn't as serious as this and Nathan sounded genuinely concered for the first time.

_Sweet Angel: Yo? That's all I fucking get? Call me you dumbass_

Reluctantly, Warren dialed Nathan's number and urged his heart to stop racing. What was he being afraid for? He already faced the worst news possible, but even with the recently received news in mind, he couldn't stop himself from feeling weak all over again. The sick feeling returned and Warren fought it off as best he could. His heart felt like it was missing a beat after every two, his throat like it had a piece of wood ludged inside. He swallowed, but the sensation remained the same. He barely managed to keep himself calm enough to sound casual when Nathan finally answered the phone. "Hello? ", Nathan called out and Warren breathed out heavily. "Hello", Warren responded awkwardly, pitch a bit too high as his voice cracked. "Warren, jesus, what happened?", Nathan asked franticly.

"I'm fine, I just woke up and I'm still at the hospital, but the doctor cleared me. It was a crash," relunctant to say her name, Warren took a second to recollect himself. "Chloe had been driving and then there was an elk, but it was too late to brake and it just, fuck, it ended so badly," Warren choked out, tears forming in his eyes. "What – but you're sure you're okay?" Warren nodded and reached underneath his sunglasses to swipe at unwanted tears. Knuckles bumped into the rim and slightly lifted it off his face, then fell back into place once he removed his hand. It wasn't long before the tears were replaced by new ones. "Yes, I am, I'm fine, I - ", he tried to explain, but it became hard to do with the lump that formed in his throat. He wouldn't be able to say it without breaking down. "It's fine, Warren, It's fine," Nathan tried to calmly ressure Warren, but he could feel the prickle of panick surfacing from the pit of his stomach. Typically, Warren wore his heart in his sleeve, but there was always a barrier. Invisible at first, but the closer you got the more obvious it became. A wall unconsiously built for a certain purpose, to keep others from seeing his weak side. Warren always gave and gave and gave, but personally he hated to receive. To be the one in need of help, instead of being the one giving help. It was a weird concept to swallow and a difficult place for Nathan to be. What could he say or do? Give him pity? Nathan hated that shit and he wouldn't doubt Warren did as well. Push the subject? That was bordering Prescott territory that Nathan didn't want to cross at the moment. "Say something, say something, say something," echoed on repeat in Nathan's mind as the silence dragged on, but there was nothing he could think of.

Luckily, he didn't have to beacause Warren spoke first. "I was gonna invite you, you know? I wrote the text message out and everything. Chloe told me to invite you, but I don't know. There was this feeling. This odd feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. I thought maybe it was because inviting you would be awkward since you don't have the best of history with my friends, but I don't know. Maybe it was this, maybe I felt that something like this was gonna happen and I didn't say anything. Maybe it's," Warren didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't have to. Nathan already knew exactly what he meant to say. _Maybe it's my fault._ "Shut the fuck up," Nathan hissed, his grip on his phone tightning. "Don't you dare start with that shit. The crash, that shit wasn't your fault, okay? Whether you agreed to go or not wouldn't have changed a fucking thing," progressively Nathan's voice grew louder. "Maybe not, but I could have convinced them to do something else. Said something about not feeling it, suggested a movie night. Could have been designated driver. I don't know, I could have done something," Warren weakly fought back, his voice low in an attempt to keep his tremble unnoticible. "A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it**," Nathan quoted and shortly after they were once again met with long unbearable silence.

The monotonous _tick tock_ of the clock in Warren's hospital room suddenly became clear to Nathan's ears. A repetative noise that caused the blood in his veins to flow quicker, his heart to nearly beat in sinc with the ticking, if not faster. There was no way that clock would remain alive for very long in his presence. Had he been the one there, it would have already been smashed to unreconizable smitherings. In a way that the ability to repair it was completely loss and the desire to set up another one anywhere near Nathan was gone. Maybe the reason had more to do with the uncomfortable drag of quiet than his hatred for clocks, but that didn't change the fact that he began to pace his room unconciously. His free hand grabbing things he didn't need only to set it down in another place it had no reason to be. Did he say the wrong thing? He couldn't help it as he repeated his question aloud, dying to bring an end to the silence.

"What? Did I say something wrong?", he might have said more self consciously than neccesary. "No," the answer was quick and reasurring. Warren continued, "No, just. I wasn't expecting that." Nathan shrugged although he knew Warren couldn't see him and said nothing more than a simple, "Okay." Warren looked up at his father who returned with a cup of steaming coffee in hand. He gave Warren a questioningly look.

"Nathan, I have to go, but I'll talk to you later okay? Oh and thanks by the way for being worried," he said softly, his eyes darting at his father who was now giving him a weird look. "It's too hard to find good entertainment these days. What would I do if I lost mine?", Nathan joked. Warren half smiled, afraid he might throw up all over himself if he laughed outloud. "You used the word good to describe me, I feel so honored," he shot back. Nathan scoffed at the expected retort. "Bye," he said and quickly hung up before Warren could say anything else. Warren's smile grew as the call ended, leaving him staring at the digital art of the milky way he had set as his background.

"Nathan? ", his father paused for a long moment, lips pursed in thought. "Nathan Prescott?", he asked and Warren tried his best to ignore the heavy tone of surprise. "Yeah, the one and only," Warren said jokingly and his father frowned at the reply. "What?", Warren asked defensively. His father waved a hand around dismisively, then took a careful sip from his coffee. "Nothing," but a frown remained on his lips and Warren unconsciously mimicked the action. He leaned into his hands when his head pounds in agony. Delicately, he masages his temples. "Just say what you want to say," Warren almost whispers. "There's nothing to say," his father responds just as low. Warren refrains from sighing heavily, the conversation draining him of all his remaining energy.

He knows the frown is still defiantly there, the twist of lips downturned in displeasure at finding out Warren was friends with a Prescott, but he did not understand why. What had Nathan done to desire such an undertone of disgust. "Do you not like the Prescotts?", he couldn't help but push the subject even though he knew his father would not give him a satisfactory answer. "Who does? ", was the only reply he got. "Why? Because they're rich?" Warren asked, head lifting away from his hands. "Because they're assholes," but the way his father's mouth fell open in surprise meant he hadn't meant to say that outloud. Quickly, he caught himself, mouth closing, and frown back in place. He took a sip from his coffee and averted his gaze, eyes focusing on the plain dark blue wall just ahead. "You need to learn how to drop things, Warren," his father said. It was a warning, as clear as land amongst sea, and Warren knew not to push the subject any further. "Am I cleared to leave the hospital? ", Warren asked, head downcast as he repeated the previous conversation in his head. He wasn't satisfied by it one bit, but maybe right now wasn't the best time to be having this debate. "No. The cops want to interview you," his father sighed out. Warren felt his blood run cold as the death of his two close friends came back into light. Teeth clenthed together tightly as he felt a sudden lightheadedness wash over him. "Fuck," he barely managed to mutter and bolted to the bathroom on unstable legs.

Warren emptied his stomach into the toilet bowl again. Nothing but yellow liquid spewed from his mouth. Slowly, it flowed down to join the vomit from earlier. His father ran into the bathroom after him, gently rubbing Warren's back as the worn out boy leaned his forehead agaisnt the cold toilet seat. "It doesn't have to be today if you aren't feeling up to it," his dad gently said with the same undertone of fear he had been speaking with earlier. Warren felt a sense of self-hatred flow through him. He hated that he wasn't able to control his body, that he wasn't able to fake his well being and fool his father away from worry. "I'm sorry," Warren sobbed, the tears unvoluntarily flowing. It was too much to take at the moment, the heavy weight of everything dropped on his shoulders and the complete lack of control a punch to the stomach. It made him unable to hold back the desire to empty his stomach once again. "It's okay Warren, breathe, relax," his father reasurred over Warren's loud wrenching. His aching body made the situation nearly unbearable. All Warren wanted to do was crawl back into the hospital bed, close his eyes, and not wake up for years to come. "I'm sorry," Warren repeated and his father smoothed back his messy hair. "It's okay, my boy. It's fine you did nothing wrong," but the words did not help ease Warren's aching heart. "It's alright, common. Let's get you home," His dad said gently, a hand resting on Warren's sweaty forehead as if checking his temperature. Warren nodded slowly, "Okay," he croaked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the life of me I could never comprehend the amount of support this story has gotten so far. I want to thank you all for sticking through with this despite my tardy updates and my could-be-improved writing skills. Honestly, I will never understand how this got to have so many kudos, but it makes me genuinely happy and I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Many thanks and hope you enjoyed.
> 
> I'd also like to add that I've never been to the hospital so I don't know the process of everything, nor I've been in a drunken crash or in anything that has involved the death of someone else, but it makes sense that the police want to interview you, even if the cause of death is obvious. However, I'm not 100% sure on that so sorry if that's wrong. I have written out another chapter that I will either be posting later today or tomorrow, but it's not as long as this one, I apologize for not uploading more after missing for months.
> 
> "A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it." - Jean de La Fontaine


	16. Chapter 16

"Warren Graham, please explain what happened on the night of the accident," The policewomen politely asked. She took a sip from the cup of water she had been handed earlier. Water trickled down from the outside of the glass cup when fingers wrapped around steadily. She set it back down on the cup holder, ice chiming as they bumped into each other. Her partner kept his gaze fixed on the notebook in his grasp, refusing to look anywhere else. He hadn't wanted a drink, politely declined before pulling out the notebook he currently bore his eyes into. His pen stood at the ready, waiting patiently for the moment Warren began to speak. "Me and my friends, Chloe, Rachel, Max, and Kate, decided to have a bonfire last Saturday night," Warren hesitates for a second and glances at his father who encourages him with a nod. " Where exactly did the bonfire take place? ", the cop asked and Warren shrugged his shoulders, " I'm not really sure, Chloe was the driver. If it's any help, it was in the middle of nowhere, in the woods somewhere," he replied.

He knew it was useless information, but he really didn't have a clue of where Chloe had taken them. The cop nodded and gestured for him to continue his story. "After setting up the bonfire, we got comfortable, began to tell stories, and Chloe – she brought out two packs of beers. I called her an idiot and she laughed it off as usual. She said I "had to live a little" and tossed a beer in my direction. I -, " Warren stopped again, this time giving the cop a concerned look. Chloe always used to tell him not to trust the cops because they were sneaky bastards. Then again, the punk was one to cause trouble whenever and however often she could. "It's okay Warren, you won't get in trouble. Continue your story," The officer said with a reassuring smile. Warren nodded slowly and continued his story.

"One beer, turned to two, turned to three, and I'm a terrible lightweight." Warren refused to look in his father's direction. He knew the older man was frowning and Warren didn't want to see the obvious disapointment in his father's face. "Later into the night, around three a.m. we put out the fire, picked up our trash, and headed back into town. " Warren remembers throwing up, but he purposely keeps it out of the story. It wasn't like it was neccesary information either way. "I don't remember much of the drive except looking ahead into the darkness past Chloe's trucks headlights. I saw something moving in the dark, but since Chloe keep driving, I thought it was my imagination. However," Warren fell silent. The cop nodded understandingly and took another sip from her water. "It's okay, we're aware of the rest. I just have one question. Where did your friend Chloe manage to get beer from? ", she asked. "I don't know. Chloe had a fake ID so probably with that," Warren replied, sweeping a hand through his hair. "Thank you for your time, Warren, Mr. Graham," The officer said as she stood up.

"Good day, officers," his father replied. Her partner shut his notebook and with a nod to Warren and his father, followed the policewomen outside. "That was easier than I thought it would be," Warren said as he scratched his head. From the window he could see the cops getting into their car and driving off. "They just needed your side of the story in case you had any information they weren't already aware about. The cause of death has already been determined." Warren looked down at his hands and busied himself removing invisible dirt from underneath his fingernails. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put it so – blunt," his father apologized. "It's alright. Not saying it wont make it any less real," Warren said, but his gaze fixedly remained on his fingernails. "Have you heard anything from Mrs. Price?", he muttered, not really eager to know the answer to his question. "The viewing is in three days," his father replied, gaze bored into the wall just ahead. 

Warren nodded and lifted himself off the couch. "I'm gonna get started on my chores," he said, his feet already leading him towards the kitchen. "Warren, you don't really have to," his father's voice trailed from behind him, but Warren continued walking. He already had no classes to go to since his father called him out of school for the week and there was no way he was spending it locked up in his room doing nothing. He'd lose his mind for sure, he would start thinking, start replaying events in his mind on repeat like a scratched record. Warren had to do something, occupy his hands and his mind to keep himself from breaking down. He was hoping the school would send him work for the week, but with the pitying tone he overheard on the phone from principle Wells " _Let him took off as much time as he needs "_ , he highly doubted it. Warren cursed the small town where everyone knew each other and, along with it, everyone else's buisness. It meant upcoming pitying side glances thrown his way in hallways, small offers of "I'm sorry for your loss", principle fucking Wells giving him a week off because everyone knew of his close friendship with Chloe and Rachel. "Fuck this hick town," he found himself saying outloud and willed the desire to cry away.

 

–---------------------------------------------

Death, whether in one form or another, will come to one no matter what. A life for a life, but no salvation for the soul whose turn it is to go. Max learned this well in the past couple of weeks, or should it be months? Maybe it's even been years. She hasn't even tried to calculate what her true age could be when taking the amount of times she has reversed into account. There wasn't a way to save someone who was meant to die and if you did, it meant heavy consequences. She supposes she had been too blind to see it before, but Chloe was meant to die from the moment Max saw her get shot in the girls bathroom by Nathan. She hadn't given it even a second thought as she saved Chloe's life countless of times to follow. Just like her father's life, it was unsavagable and no matter how much it pained Max to admit it, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Many lives would be taken in replace of her dodge of fate and Max couldn't do it anymore, not figuratively or physically.

Max raised a hand and closed her eyes, she focused on her breathing and urged the flow of time to reverse. After seconds of nothing, she opened her eyes and allowed her hand to fall down onto her thigh. Max had officially lost her powers. She wasn't sure why or how, but maybe reversing back enough to a time before her powers threw her into an alternative universe in where her powers were non-existent. She sighed and fell back onto her bed, the soft matress of her dorm comforting her if just slightly. She didn't know how she managed to convince her parents to let her stay in Blackwell Academy, but she knows it almost failed. They nagged her for hours on end, but when she informed them on Chloe and Rachel, they fell silent and the argument was won for the meantime. She didn't want to go home, she wanted to stay, be with her girlfriend, with Warren, and with a mother that was nearly her own. She wanted to be here to see Chloe one last time, even if it was in formal dark clothes and pale skin that would never belong to a person with a beating heart. It had taken all of her might to stand strong as Joyce sobbed on the phone " _My baby girl, oh my baby girl"._ There was enough Joyce had to worry about and Max didn't want to be one of them even if she wanted to cry along and curse the world for taking away one of the most important person in her life. For taking away the girl she had went through hell and back to save and now had been swept away from her grasp once again. Except this time, there was absolutely nothing she could do.

"Max," she heard be said tentatively from behind her locked door. "Let me in," but it wasn't Kate's voice that pleaded. Max thought about ignoring it and pretending she wasn't in her room, but eventually, and relunctantly, she dragged herself out of her warm bed to unlock the door. "It's open," she called out as she tossed herself back into the welcoming embrace of her bed. The door was opened hesitantly at first, then swung open fully to reveal Victoria in all her perfection. Max raised her eyebrows in shock, most definitely not expecting Victoria to want be anywhere near Max, let alone her dorm. Victoria closed the door and with an obvious fake display of confidence, sat herself on the brown couch Max barely ever used. She supposed it came handy because having Victoria sit, persay on her bed, wouldn't exactly be comfortable for either one of them. "Don't flatter yourself, I want to be here as much as you want me here," she said with her nose in the air to emphasis her disgust at having anywhere near Max.

Max frowned, but remained silent. "I – have a question," she said with a much less egotistical tone. "Where is," a short pause, "Rachel's funeral going to be held?" , she asked vulnerably. Her act of confidence slowly deteriorating to leave in place something that actually resembled a human being. Max had to prevent her mouth from falling open by clentching her teeth together. "I -, " she started, but followed with nothing. This was certainly not something Max was expecting. She had the urge to tell Victoria to go fuck herself, but withholding information from her, dispite the many times she made Max's life unbearable, seemed plain cruel. There was obviously something between the two that meant more than meet ups at the middle of the night, but it wasn't Max's place to say anything about it. "I'll text you the address, if you'd like. I have it on my phone, I don't know it by memory," Max informs and tries her best to keep her curiousity at bay. Victoria nods stiffly and, oddly enough, thanks Max before leaving the room without another word. Max has no idea of what to make of it.

–-------------------------------------------

_Sweet Angel: Why aren't you in school? I thought you said you were okay._

_Warren: I am okay. It wasn't my decision, my dad called me out for this entire week and is forcing me to stay home. I'm slowly losing my mind and it's only the second day._

_Sweet Angel: You really miss school that much?_

_Warren: I miss science class, it helps keep my mind occupied. All my lab supplies are there so I can't do jack. I've even resorted to making a potato powered lightbulb. That is the lowest of the low for me._

_Sweet Angel: You're worse than a heroine addict. Next thing you know you'll be building a spaceship to fucking neverland made of tinfoil_

_Warren: It's not a bad idea_

_Sweet Angel: What about your mind? Is that okay?_

_Warren: What?_

_Sweet Angel: Shut up asshole, you know what I mean. Are you mentally okay?_

_Warren: You're so sweet to me_

_Sweet Angel: >:(_

_Warren: PLease no, its so weird coming from you_

_Sweet Angel: >>:((_

_Warren: Okay, fine, geez. I'm okay, I think. I mean I have these moments of overwhelming misery, but it'll pass. It'll get better with time, I'll learn to manage it again. Its not the first time._

_Sweet Angel: I'm sorry, I'm a dick. I hadn't meant to push._

_Warren: It's fine. It's good to talk about how you're feeling instead of bottling it up._

_Sweet Angel: Yeah. You should go to bed. Goodnight, Warren._

_Warren: You should try to as well. Goodnight._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So would you believe I've never been interviewed by a cop before either? There was once a cop that came to interview my mom, but I hide upstairs because cops unsettle me.  
> As promised here is the other chapter I said I would put up. I know it's real slow now but I want to really work with Chloe's death. In the game I've noticed that Chloe gets saved a LOT by Max and if the game has taught us anything about messing with death is DO NOT. 
> 
> Also I'd like to add that ever since I played through the episode where you get sent to an alternative universe I've been thinking, "What if Max went far back enough in time and was sent to an alternative universe she had no powers?" So basically that's what I'm going with. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. (quickly edits funeral to viewing because I totally fucking forgot there is a viewing before a funeral)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Frantically writes a chapter after semester ends*  
> First of, let me apologize. It's been a hectic couple of months with my first semester of college and between riding, work, and studying it's been hard to find time to work on this. Its also been a very otherworldly experience so far. I found that professors are very verbal about whats on their mind. I had one of mines tell us, "You're going to be shooting heroin into your eyeballs by the end of this semester" and for fuck's sake he was nearly proven right. Since now my semester is over, I'll have some time to get back into the groove of this fic. I wanted to post this for you guys to update you on what's going on. Hopefully this isn't too bad of a chapter since it's basically a draft and I hope ya'll enjoy!

Warren sighed as he sat down on the white crisp sand. He flung his converse to the side and allowed his legs to stretch out in front of him. The sun shone down against his face and he closed his eyes as he leaned back into the palm of his hands. The sand swallowed his fingers, leaving nothing but the back of his hand visible. It felt warm and, in a way, gave Warren some comfort. It had been nearly a year since he last visited the beach, but the heavy nostalgia still hit him hard. There was nothing more that strongly reminded him of her. Waves crashing into the shore, digging away at the sand as it slithered back. The seagulls that screeched to one another communicating in a language that only they understood. A smell that only could be attributed to the ocean. It all became like a mark that represented his mother and to think of it in any other way seemed impossible.

He hated being here, but if he stayed locked up in his father’s house one more day, there was no doubt that he would lose his mind. The only place he could go to that remained at a decent walking distance from the house was the beach. It was not only Warren who felt reminded of his mother around the ocean. His father did as well, so he brought a home near the water. Warren wonders if that is the reason he felt so compelled to study at a school with dorms, but he pushes the thought away from his mind. He did not want to be far away from something close to his mother’s heart. He just did not want to be reminded of her missing presence every time he looked out his window. It felt no easier being here after years, especially alone.

_Warren: Could we met up?_

_Sweet Angel: Where?_

_Warren: My father’s house._

_Warren: I’m sorry if this is a weird request, but I think I might lose my fucking mind if I only have my father’s pitying glances and the ocean to keep me company._

_Sweet Angel: Geez, what’s the ocean ever done to you?_

_Warren: Please_

_Sweet Angel: Alright, just send me the address._

* * *

 

Nathan gulped roughly, his adam’s apple bobbed in the process. It was time to be selfless. He dialed the number he knew by heart. There was no need to search for it in his contacts because there had been a time he refused to save the number, but there was no escape. He had to know when the man was calling him, he had to know the proper way to respond. There were only a few seconds to mentally prep before having to hastily respond. “It’s not good to ignore a call from your father, Nathan. A father does gets worried,” Nathan clearly recalls him saying one time. He never missed a call again.

“Nathan,” his father answers almost immediately and Nathan shudders. He closes his eyes and tries to regulate his furiously beating heart. “Father, how are you doing today?”, he asks and bites the inside of his cheek afterwards. “Nathan, I know you are not calling me for pleasantries, tell me what it is you want.” There is a flicker of annoyance in his father’s tone, but Nathan manages to convince himself it’s just his mind playing a cruel game. “Please father, can I be allowed access to my car again?”, he begged. This time his teeth began to knaw at his bottom lip. It will not be long before he tears through skin and begins to bleed.

On the phone, there is a moment of silence as if his father is thinking about the answer he already decided. “I don’t know, will you behave this time?” Nathan nods although his father cannot see him. “Yes, I promise,” He closes his eyes tightly and bites down hard on his lip. The taste of metallic clear and familiar to his tongue. “That is all I wanted to hear. You can have access to your car, Nathan,” he says sounding pleased. “But the car is at the-,” Nathan begins, but is cut off by his father’s sharp tone. “I never said you didn’t have to work for it. You can walk here and pick it up yourself.” Nathan’s body sags and he covers his eyes with his hand. He knew this would not have been easy, there is always a catch when it comes to the twisted man.

The house is nearly a two hour walk from the nearest bus stop. He thinks of asking Victoria for a ride, but as always his father seemed to have read his mind. “I’ll know if you cheat, goodbye Nathan.” He can almost hear his father smirk over the phone as the call ends. A rumbustious yell burst out of Nathan and he stands up, kicking his trash bin across the room. The floor becomes littered with crumpled up papers and plastic, but Nathan could not bring himself to care.  “Fuck you, you crooked asshole!” He shouts into the phone, but the call was long over. Still it made him feel slightly better just thinking about saying those words to the old man’s face. He takes off, forgetting about his keys on the night table, and bolting out of his room.  

_Nathan: I’m gonna be a little late_

* * *

 

Warren had lost track of time.  Although it was cold out, the sun found a way to make its presence known. After hours of sitting in silence facing the sun’s direction, he felt some warmth from the rays beaming down. It felt nice since it had been awhile since he had felt natural warmth. He had forgotten how mind-numbing it could be. How with just a bit of heat, the sun can lull you into a trance and even if you wanted to leave, it became a hassle to even think about. It was nearly enough to miss a person sitting down beside him, but Nathan’s cologne was always strong enough to knock a bull out cold. “Hey,” he greeted. Warren glanced at Nathan and was surprised to see his usually well-groomed hair a mess. “Hey,” Nathan responded, tugging at his usual jacket.

“How did you know I was back here?”, he asked with an eyebrow raised and gave Nathan a once over. He looked like he ran a marathon. “Your dad let me in, said you’ve been sitting out here staring at the sea for hours. How aren’t you freezing?”, he explained and rubbed his arms. Warren chuckled and drew his legs up to his chest. His arms wrapped around his knees. “Eventually the sun starts to warm you up,” he said with a smile. Nathan scoffed and followed Warren’s example. “Sorry I made you drive out here,” Warren apologized. “Don’t do that shit,” Nathan scolded in retort and Warren raised both eyebrows. “What shit?” Nathan turned to face him. “Don’t apologize for being selfish, it’s unattractive,” Nathan said with a frown of his lips. “Are you saying I’m usually attractive?”, Warren shot back with a smirk. He looked back at the ocean, watching as the waves lapped for the hundredth time.

“How are you holding on?”, Nathan asked and Warren shook his head. “Please, let me be selfish for a bit longer. I don’t want to talk about that,” Warren pleaded. Nathan nodded, playing with the strings of his wooded bracelet. It had been a gift from his sister when she returned from a visit to Brazil. It was one of the things he never went without, a constant reminder of his adventurous sister. His sister that had gone and left him behind to face hell alone. He never did blame her for that, he always wished he could be more like her. Strong and independent, she never allowed herself to fall into their father’s abuse. The moment she saw an exit, she greedily grasped it firmly with both hands. She left and that was okay, more than okay, but Nathan had been left behind. He no longer knew what to do, he had no dream like she did, he had no vision for a better future. Still the bracelet gave him some aspiration. It kept her close to his heart and he would allow that to be his motivation. He knew he would be letting her down if he simply gave up no matter how many times he felt like it.

A head fell onto his shoulder and Nathan was dragged away from his thoughts. Warren had scooted closer and allowed his head to rest on Nathan’s shoulder. “You said it’s unattractive so I won’t apologize,” Warren defended his action and Nathan found himself unable to argue. “It’s unattractive coming from you.” Nathan felt the vibration of Warren chuckling at his retort. He glanced up at the sun with squinted eyes and finally felt the warmth Warren was talking about.

 

* * *

 

As the sun begun to set, Nathan found himself unable to move. It became especially hard when Warren fell asleep on his shoulder. He did not want to disturb the other, but his mind was racing and the deserve to move and do something was obnoxiously present. Typically, it was hard for Nathan to remain put for very long. Even while watching a movie, the desire to be active had him pausing the movie for a quick walk around campus. He applauded himself for maintaining still for as long as he had been, but now it was becoming nearly unbearable. He scratched at the skin underneath his bracelet. It was not long before it began to color red.

“You really aren’t like your father, are you?” The sudden voice that came from behind him nearly made him jump, but he managed to refrain. Warren’s father walked around the two with a red cotton blanket in hand. He opened it and covered Warren and Nathan with it.  “I would hope not,” Nathan responded, the disgust evident on his face. He glanced up at the man that smiled down at him, the resemblance to Warren was uncanny. “Not even his own son, huh,” the man said more to himself than Nathan. “He has a way of making people hate his guts,” Nathan said making Warren’s father bark in laughter. It was loud enough to make him glance down at Warren, but the boy remained asleep. “Don’t worry, that boy can sleep through an earthquake.” The older man gave a wave of his hand. “Do you not like my father?”, Nathan returned to the subject beforehand and the glee from the man’s face instantly disbanded. Nathan’s body littered with goosebumps at the sudden change in atmosphere. “No, I can’t say I do,” Nathan nodded and waited patiently for any follow up information, but nothing came and he let the subject drop.

“Why don’t you like him? Kinda strange for a kid to not like his own father no matter the kinda man he is.” Nathan felt his body freeze and the hair on the back of his neck rise. He has never had someone ask about his feelings towards his dad. A part of him wanted to spill his guts, to say everything from beginning to end and not leave one detail astray, but he knew better than that. The logical part of him told him to remain silent. He could nearly hear his father’s voice whispering “It’s better this way” into his ear. Nathan shuddered and prayed he did not go pale. “He’s the kind of man that even his kids hate,” and that was enough to keep any more questions voiced. Warren’s father nodded and bobbed his head towards the house. “It’s getting late, you can stay for the night if you’d like,” the older man offered, but Nathan shook his head no. “I couldn't ask that of you,” he said. “Ah, but you never asked, I offered. I just finished making dinner, who can turn down free dinner?” Nathan smiled slightly, now he saw were Warren got his persistence from. “Yeah, okay,” he finally agreed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...sorry about this chapter

_Warren: You could have stayed the night._

Nathan re-reads the message for the third time, his eyes roaming over the words as if trying to decipher a cryptic code it hide. He knew there was an underline tone of fear, the drive is long and dark, but it was just a simple text straight to the point. Nathan drove for thirty minutes until he could no longer control his shaking hands and was forced to pull over. He knew he was acting like a dick, he knew that Warren needed him today, but instead dined and ditched like some cheap date. Nathan let his head fall back on to the stitched leather headrest of his car.

Drawing in a deep breath, he begins to count to ten, but jumbled thoughts keep it hard to concentrate on slowing his heart rate and steadying his hands. He decides instead to focus on his surroundings. The purr of his running ignition vibrating underneath his thighs. The brightness of the headlights baring into the side of a tree. The hum of his barely muted stereo singing gibberish.

_I'm here, I'm fine._

It helps keep him grounded. The weight he felt in his chest before, the one he worried would crush him to death, lifted slightly, and made it easier to breathe. 

_I know, I'm sorry,_ He writes out, but ends up erasing the last part.  _I know_

A sudden anger from within him roared to life. Why is this effecting him as much as it is? It is not like anyone did anything to offend him, in fact they treated Nathan like an honored guest, better than they even treated him in V.I.P. sections at parties, but the way Warren and his father interacted made Nathan feel like he was intruding on something personal. The way they laughed at each others jokes, smiles reaching their eyes. That fond look Warren's father gave his son whenever he said something too smart for any ordinary person to understand.

There was no sneering, no ignoring, no crude remarks. It made Nathan feel downright nauseous, like he would hurl all over the dinner table in front of him if he spent there a minute longer. That or burst into tears and he was not sure which would have been more embarrassing.

Nathan feels the prickle of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and a small chocked laugh escapes his lips. He swipes at his eyes quickly before he can't actually stop himself from crying. "You're such a fucking pussy," he tells himself aloud. He thinks about how pathetic it is to be stopped in the middle of nowhere trying to hold back tears. What even for? Because daddy didn't love him?

"Shit luck," he breathes out and his hands begin to shake again, but he tightens them around the steering wheel. Setting the car in to drive, he eases back on to the road, the volume of the music increasing until he could no longer hear himself think. 

 

* * *

 

 Warren sighed in frustration as he watched his character die for the fourteenth time in a row. On screen, the camera made a switch to third person view, displaying the body of his player surrounded by growling and hissing monsters in unintentional mockery. Warren tosses the controller in his hands to the side, deciding to give up before he rips his hair from its roots. The difficulty he set for the game did not make it any easier to clear his current in game mission, but he refused to be a quitter, figuratively speaking.

Warren glances at the upside down controller just out of reach and sighs again. He is bored out of his mind, but worse is the peak of anxiety that starts to worm its way to the surface. Keeping occupied with work around the house was helping, but he'd been banned from doing chores after he took out the trash bag for the third time in a day. His father complained that he barely had the chance to throw away a napkin before there was a new bag. 

Warren looks over at his phone, he had not touched it since Nathan left yesterday. There's been no use for it anyways. Kate is not replying to his messages, he is too scared to write to Max because god knows how she is, and he doesn't know what to write to Nathan, even if he wanted to. He contemplates playing another round of his game, but doesn't think he can handle it emotionally anymore.

"Screw this," Warren curses as gets up from the ground. It couldn't possibly be healthy to keep a boy his age in isolation for this long. Especially when his thoughts felt like they could suffocate him if given just a moment of consideration. Warren turns off the TV and grabs his phone, shoving it with frustration into his pocket. He ponders the idea of sneaking out, the last thing he wants to worry about is have an anxious father ringing him every couple of minutes to see if he's okay, but his car is still at campus and the nearest bus stop is miles from the house. Warren has no choice but to ask for a ride to town. 

He makes his way downstairs. His father is sitting at the dinner table, flipping through today's news. Warren settles into the seat across from his dad, staring until the older man gets the hint and sets the paper down on the table. "Yes?", he asks, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. A small twitch of a smile shows on Warren's lips. His father could always read him like an open book.

"Could you drive me to town?", he begs, hands clasped like in prayer. A hint of worry shows clearly on his father's face, but disappears as he nods in agreement. Warren mentally sighs in relief, he is grateful that the older man did not try to pry. The last thing he needs at the moment is a conversation on how he is feeling. _Like I'm drowning in a sea of my own guilt,_ he thinks. 

 It takes the man a second to get ready like usual. He throws on a coat and holds open the front door for Warren, which the boy shuffles quickly out through. The long sleeved shirt being the only thing Warren wore makes his father to shake his head in disapproval. It had to be at least thirty-four degrees outside, but Warren often managed to overlook small details. The older man heads back inside and grabs a sweater off the couch. Once outside, he hands the sweater to Warren who has already begun to shiver in the cold weather. Warren smiles sheepishly, but takes it into his hands graciously. 

The drive is boring and filled with silence between the two. The podcasts his father loved to hear plays on the stereo. Two men discuss their political views in enthusiastic voices that could be mistaken for shouting, if not for the excuse of politics. Warren taps his fingers on his thighs, playing an uneven beat. He tries his best to contain his annoyance, but if someone mentioned the second amendment one more time, he'd use his rights to own a gun to lodge a bullet in his head. 

His father gently brakes in front of the edge of the town and turnes to face Warren. "Be safe," he says, a frown on his lips. Warren nods and hugs his father goodbye. "Thanks for driving me." 

Warren steps out of the car, stretching his stiff knees. He waves at his father's car when he begins to drive away and feels a sense of freedom he has not felt in days. He loves his father more than anything in the world, but nothing feels as good as being able to move around freely without someone breathing down your neck. Warren understands his concern, just prefers some time apart for awhile. 

He is not exactly sure where he wants to go, but he lets his feet take him where they want. It has been awhile since he has been to town and dreads running into familiars, but beats the ocean and four walls that feel like they are slowly closing in on him. They are many shops he passes by that he never has actually stepped foot in, but he's not much of a shopping type. He prefers arcades and drive-in movies. His favorite is usually visiting the arcade, but if he can remember correctly, it's on the whole opposite side of town. Other than that, a drive-in can't really be done without a car. Either way, he only has twelve dollars to his name, barely enough for either of the two.

Just up ahead, he recognizes a familiar restaurant. He feels his legs slow down until he is standing still, gaping up at the familiar neon whale sign. He really, really, should not go in, but he feels compelled to, like he owes Chloe or something by going in. He knows its ridiculous motive, but he can't stop himself as he starts to move towards the entrance. He wants to turn back, to keep walking and pretend he never even saw the place, but the happy chime of the restaurant door opening makes it obvious it's too late to turn back. He feels eyes on him, staring hard enough to make him feel naked, but he refuses to make eye contact with anyone. If he did, he'd feel compelled to run out with his tail between his legs. 

Warren keeps his head down as he finds an empty booth near the jukebox. He scoffs at the mellow country music it played. Chloe would have complained and changed it before even settling in her seat. He glances at the menu set neatly on the table in front of him. It's funny they even offer them, everyone that comes to the restaurant knows the menu by heart. They could probably recite it if you asked. "What can I get you sweet heart?", he hears a very familiar voice ask. He tries to speak, but his tongue feels intrusive and foreign. Forming words seems impossible suddenly, like he's never spoken a word before in his life. "Warren?", she asks in concern after a long beat of silence. 

Reluctantly, Warren raises his head to meet eyes with Joyce. She looks tired, heavy bags underneath her usually fiery eyes. Today they look unusually dull, her bright blue eyes drained of color. She isn't wearing any make-up and her hair is pulled back into a messy bun. It looks like she was forcibly dragged out of bed and thrown into work against her will. He feels his heart break a little for the woman. 

"Uh, eggs," is all he can really say. She nods slowly and gives him a soft smile. He must look like he's seen a ghost because she does not ask for clarification, just writes something down on her notepad, and heads off. As she walks away, he lets out a deep breath that he hadn't even noticed he'd been holding in.

It felt odd to be here, like he had been shot into a parallel universe and everything remained the same, but not really. He risks a glance around the restaurant. It was filled with regulars, but he could feel the tense air. They offered rigid smiles to each other, sat unusually tall and awkward in their seats. No one was looking in Joyce's direction, trying their best to avoid eye contact with her. An unusual silence sat heavy in the restaurant like Warren has never witness before. Everyone was usually rowdy, making Joyce roll her eyes and command them to keep it down. 

Now everyone just sat there silent and stiff. Taking small bites of their food carefully as if they were trying to prevent even a scratch of a fork on a plate. They simply sat there, pretending everything is normal and nothing has changed. It made Warren want to scream at the top of his lungs. The worse of it all was that he himself was one of them. Sitting stiff, ignoring Joyce, and pretending everything is exactly the fucking same. 

A plate and steaming mug of coffee placed in front of Warren made him jump . He looks up at Joyce who chuckles at scaring the boy. Warren half smiles and thanks Joyce. The smell of freshly cooked eggs made his mouth water. He suddenly realizes how hungry he actually was at the sight of steam rising from the plate. He can't even remember the last time he ate from here, but knows its the best place to go when hunger hits."It's on the house," she says. 

"Oh no, I can't accept that Joyce," he argues, shaking his head no. "Don't be silly, I want to. You look like you need it, I hope it's to your liking," she says with a soft smile and heads off again. He watches her go, confusion settling in, but he knows arguing with Joyce is like arguing with a brick wall. She never budges, its her way or no way. He tries to ignore the creeping guilt that he feels at the pit of his stomach and busies himself digging into his food. He instantly starts to feel better after just the first bite, Joyce's food always had a way of doing that. 

"Warren?", someone asks from beside his booth and Warren looks up to meet eyes with Logan. He wasn't wearing his usual football team jacket, but a regular tight black t-shirt that showed off his muscles, an outside coat hung around his arm. Warren rose an eyebrow questioningly at the sight of the footballer. "Hey, Logan," he replied despite his confusion. The footballer took that as an invitation and sat down across from Warren who now rose both eyebrows. Warren set down his fork and took a sip of coffee from his mug as he waited for Logan to say something. 

"It's not really any of my business, but you haven't been at campus for awhile," Logan stated and Warren nearly chokes on his coffee. He sets down the mug, deciding maybe the best thing to do is to avoid eating or drinking anything for the moment. He noticed Warren hasn't been at campus? Warren would have laughed if he wasn't so afraid of getting his face beating in. "Yeah, uh, I've been staying with my dad for awhile. Got the week off," Warren explains, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Oh, damn," Logan says. He pauses for a bit, looking like he's trying to find the right words to say. "Well at least you got to skip school for a bit, that's awesome," he chuckles. Warren smiles, trying to hold back a laugh. There is only so much you can expect from a jockey, but at least he's trying. Warren decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I actually miss it like crazy, I'm dying of boredom. This is legitimately the most fun I've had in days and that's kinda sad." Logan lets out a huff of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Of course you'd miss school," he teases. "Hey, whats that supposed to mean?", Warren plays along, a small smirk sat on his lips. Sitting in the same booth and talking with Logan like he's a friend definitely isn't something Warren expected to happen today. Actually, it's something he has never expected at all in any given day, but it's kinda nice to have someone to talk to for the moment.

"You know, I've been bored outta my mind for these past days too. Got nothing really going on, I'm actually gonna head back to the dorms and chill for a bit. Not much else to do. You could, join if you want? You know, that's if you got nothing else to do." Warren swears he sounds hesitant towards the end, but decides to ignore it. He doesn't think it's really a good idea to hang out with Logan, he barely knows the dude and last time they "hung out" Warren got bruises. Still, he has nothing better to do and if he thinks he prefers hanging himself than heading back home. 

"Sure, I got nothing really going on anyways," Warren shrugs. "Cool, then we can head out when you're done," Logan says with, for god's sake, a fucking smile. Warren's definitely been sent to an alternative universe. 

 

* * *

 

Logan's room is exactly like Warren expects it to be. It's a pretty bland room, not decorated much. A photo of the Bigfoots team players hung above red sheets adorning a full bed. Red flags with the Bigfoots symbol stood proudly on the sides of the poster. To the front of the bed, a flat plasma tv with a playstation sitting on the floor underneath. In one of the corners stood a rack filled with tons of games, mainly about sports. 

"Make yourself comfortable," Logan said as he closes the door and heads towards the playstation. Warren settles on the bed awkwardly, not really sure with what to do with himself. "You like video games, right?", Logan asks. The playstation beeps cheerfully as it comes to life, its start up music playing loudly through surround sound speakers. Logan then heads for the rack filled with games, a hand coming up underneath his chin. "Yeah, I play every once in a while when I have free time,"Warren says. He shrugs off his sweater and places it neatly on a nearby chair. 

"I have Portal 2, I feel like that's you're kinda game," offers Logan. He looks back at Warren with a questioning glance. "Damn, how did you guess," Warren says sarcastically and Logan laughs, taking the case of the game, and inserting the disk into the playstation. Logan removes his coat and tosses it on the same chair Warren placed his sweater. He almost misses, but it manages to latch on to the back of the chair. 

He hands Warren a controller and tosses himself onto his bed after removing his shoes. Warren follows his lead, taking off his shoes, and settling in beside Logan. 

 

* * *

 

Five puzzles into the game and Logan's about ready to blow his brains out. "I really can't do this anymore, how is your head not hurting?", Logan whines out. Warren chuckles at the footballer's distress. "This is like a break for me, actually," Warren replies. Logan covers his eyes with arm and groans. "Man, I just had to pick the nerd to hang out with," Logan teases. Warren digs his fingers into Logan's side and the footballer yelps. He glances at Warren in shock who returns the glance with a smirk. 

"You little shit,"Logan mutters and Warren worries he actually angered the guy, but Logan jumps on him, digging his fingers under Warren's armpits. Warren barks in laughter as he feels the fingers moving quickly, then slidding down to his hips where they continue the attack. He tries his best to push the intrusive fingers away, but it's like trying to move a brick wall, and Logan just tickles him harder. "Okay! Okay!", Warren says inbetween his manic giggling. "I'm sorry! I surrounder!" 

He feels Logan's fingers stop moving and Warren gasps for air, trying to normalize his breathing. He looks up at Logan with teary eyes formed from laughter and his smile falls from his face. Logan's staring down at him with a blank expression, eyes roaming Warren's face. It suddenly hits him how close Logan and him actually are. He feels the footballer's thighs on either side of his, trapping him down on the bed. Logan's face is close enough to feel his hot breath on his lips. "Is it okay if I kiss you?", Logan asks, actually fucking asks, like some god damn gentlemen. 

Warren can't trust his voice and nods his head instead because fuck it. How long has it been since he actually has gotten any action? Logan leans down, softly pressing his lips down agaisnt Warren's. It's chaste and gentle, too gentle for Warren at the moment.

Warren cups the back of Logan's neck, pushing him harder into the kiss. He grinds up into Logan who moans into his lips. "Fuck," Logan breathes out, seperating their lips and kissing down Warren's neck. He feels the footballer getting hard agaisnt him already and shifts his hips up again. 

Warren pushes him until Logan is flat on his back and Warren's the one on top. "I've never done it with a dude," Logan confesses, face flushed with excitement. "I have. I'll walk you through," Warren says, tugging on Logan's shirt. Logan gets the hint and sits up, letting Warren remove his shirt. He's just as muscular as he looks without his shirt on, cuts at just the right places. Warren slids a hand down his chest, admiring the view. "Wow," Warren says and Logan smiles at the compliment. 

 "Do you have lub?", Warren ask and Logan raises an eyebrow. "No, shit, do we need that?" Warren presses his lips on Logan's chapped ones before replying. "Yeah, but that's fine. We can do something else," he reassures. He motions for Logan to lay back and the footballer complies, falling back agaisnt the matress. Warren kisses his neck and down his chest, mantaining eye contact with Logan as he did. The footballer bites into his lip, chewing on it as he watches Warren go down on him. Goosebumps litter across his chest and arms, his pupils dilating slightly at the sensation of warmly placed kisses trailing down, down, until Warren hovered just above his dick.

He places his lips on Logan's jeans, hands coming up to undo the fly. Warren reaches inside, helping Logan free. He gives one long stroke and Logan whimpers at the warm hand slidding down around him. It makes Warren smile to know the effect he's having on the footballer. Making sure Logan is giving him his full attention, Warren slowly slids his tongue accross the tip, drawing teasing small circles around. He enjoys the way Logan rolls his eyes up, head falling back on his pillow as he releases a huff of air.

He decides to go for it, sliding Logan deep into his mouth. "Fuck," he hears Logan curse. He feels fingers slide into his hair, gripping tightly, but restrains from shoving deeper into Warren's mouth. He allows Warren to do all the work and focuses on stiffiling his moans with the back of his hand. It doesn't take much longer for Logan to feel himself close. "I'm gonna cum," he warns Warren, but he continues to suck Logan off, working his hand along as well. " Fuck," he curses again as he makes eye contact with Warren. With one more pump, Logan loses it. Warren feels warm cum fill his mouth and dispite his disgust to do so, swallows everything.

"Fuck," Logan breathes out and Warren chuckles. "So I've heard," he replies. Warren feels uncomfortably hard in his jeans and pulls himself out. "Hope you don't mind," Warren says as he begins to jerk himself off. "No, not at all," Logan replies as he watches with interest. Warren slowly strokes himself and Logan sits up, placing his lips on Warren's neck as he works on a hickey. Warren moans at the sensation, letting his head fall back. "Come on, cum for me," Logan whispers, sliding his hands underneath Warren's shirt and slowly stroking his back. Warren feels like someone lit him aflame, Logan's warm hands leave a burning trail as they move in circles. 

He feels good, really good, a way he hasn't felt in weeks, maybe months. Logan pulls back from his neck, smiling at the hickey coloring proudly agaisnt the white of Warren's skin. He moves to the skin just below the chin and Warren groans as he gets closer to climax. "Holy shit," Warren moans. "Keep doing that," Warren commands and Logan happily obliges, continuing to tease the skin. Warren groans, feeling himself release on Logan. His head falls fowards on to Logan's shoulder, huffing as he tries to catch his breathe. 

 "Holy fuck," Warren mumbles. He feels the vibration of Logan chuckling agaisnt his cheek. "What time is it?", Warren asks, lifting his head from Logan's shoulder. Logan reaches over to the night table and grabs his phone. "It's five," he informs, setting the phone down beside him. "I gotta get home, dad's probably worried," he says, but makes no move to get up. "I can drive you home, if you'd like," Logan offers and Warren doesn't think he could ever get over the footballer talking to him as a friend, even though he just sucked the guy's dick. 

"I couldn't ask that of you, it's a far drive," Warren declines. Reluctantly, he gets up from Logan's lap. He tucks himself back into his jeans and grabs his sweater off the chair, shrugging it on. "I don't mind. It's not like a got much else going on anyways." Logan grabs wipies from inside his night table and wipes his stomach clean. "Only if you're sure," Warren says skeptical, but who can refuse a free ride. Especially when it saves him a walk back to town and his dad gas. He still wasn't allowed to touch his car and he thinks his father would prefer someone driving him home than himself behind a wheel. 

 "Yeah let me just get dressed," Logan says, getting up and throwing on the first thing he finds. He turns to Warren and smirks, "Might want to do something about those hickeys," he teases. Warren's face drains of color, a hand defensively rising to his neck. He turns to face a nearby mirrior hanging off the wall and inspects his neck. Two purple hickeys show visibly on the skin of his neck in locations hard to cover. "He's going to kill me," Warren moans and Logan laughs at his distress. "Common," he says, holding his door open for Warren to follow and Warren reluctantly follows Logan outside. 

 

* * *

 

_Warren: How did I escape Iraq?_

_Sweet Angel: What?_

_Warren: Iran_

_Sweet Angel: Are you fucking serious right now?_

_Warren: What do prisioners use to call each other?_

_Sweet Angel: Stop_

_Warren: Cell phones_

_Sweet Angel: oh my god_

_Warren: Did you hear about that italian chef with the terminal illness?_

_Sweet Angel: I can't fucking believe this_

_Warren: He pastaway_

_Sweet Angel: That one was actually pretty good_

_Warren: Fishermen are reel men._

_Sweet Angel: and you lost me_

_Warren: then you do better_

_Sweet Angel: Last time I stole a calender I got 12 months_

_Warren: damnit_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, I'm so sorry I've been gone forever, but I hope you maybe enjoyed this?  
> Btw this chapter doesn't change anything, Nathan and Warren are still end game, but I had to do something with Logan's character because he was just so awkwardly there. SO.....yeah, this happened. You're welcome if you dig it? Sorry if it just really didn't float your boat.  
> Also I haven't written a blowjob scene in ages, so it might not be the best.


End file.
